#there's definitely something to said there about how jesus was a child with a similar burden thrust on his shoulders at birth

[graham--folger]

ohhhhh i have got to talk about wolfwood's regeneration abilities as a bastardized depiction of resurrection. like what if resurrection wasn't the joyful, miraculous thing we see so centrally in christianity. what if it was more of a curse. what if it didn't make you an angel or the son of god. what if instead it made you into a monster

[sameschmidtdiffname]

feeling a bit weird asking this request since i haven't actually seen anyone write such a thing, but i'd like to ask for something about the parent figure!mike (NOT SMUT OFC), maybe something he's the reader's father or brother or something, if it's not something you could write just ignore !!! (i'm also not a native speaker so i apologize if it sounds impolite i always have this problem :/)

Girl have you read my fics?? Do NAWT come on here talking about feeling weird for a request when I have written shit that's sending me to super hell with Jensen Ackles or whoever played the angel guy from Supernatural. (I hope that joke made sense, I'm not in that fandom </3)

Anyways, I hope you enjoy this!! Fresh off the press for you pookie <3 (BTW, your English js great and you weren't demanding at all!! Seriously, don't feel bad 😊)

Same Shit, Different Schmidt

Dad! Mike & Gender Neutral! Reader

(This gif always sends me, I'm sorry)

Summery: You are a stubborn ass and Mike is not here to put up with that shit. Where'd you get this attitude, anyways? Is it so hard to just listen?

Tags: No use of Y/N, Reader is Mike's child, this is lowkey a sequel to 'What's One More?' but that is absolutely not required to read this, sickness, reader almost passes out, slight angst, Mike takes care of reader, Mike has a come to Jesus moment, mentions of arguing, injury, underage drinking, Abby and Mike go at it at one point, just a cute lil drabble :)

Notes: it feels illegal to post something so short. Is this allowed?? Anyways, this was so cute to write! Definitely a new approach. I hope you guys like this! Thanks for the request anon, I always love getting them 💗

▪︎◇{¤♧■♧¤}◇▪︎

"I'm fine," you groaned emphatically, trying to to rise from the bed, musty from your body's sweat during the night.

"You are not fine, do not bullshit me," Mike scolded. His hands pressed you back onto the bed, his scowl growing as he feels your temperature through your moist shirt. "When did this start?"

"I told mom my throat hurt last night and she gave me some ibuprofen. It's seriously just a cold," you said, trying one more time to rise from the bed.

"You always get a sore throat before you get sick, have since you were a kid. When did the fever start?" His hand feels freezing against your clammy forehead, making you shy away to avoid the chills that threaten you.

"Not hot."

"You want me to call your mom so you can gaslight her, too?" His tone is firm and threatening. "Is there something you're trying to get away with here or...?"

"I have tech tonight for my show, I can't miss," you finally admit. You open your mouth to continue, but Mike quickly cuts you off.

"No. Out of the question," he said.

"Dad, I'll get in trouble-"

"You will get everyone else sick and then what? I said no," he said firmly. But when he sees the way you sink into the bed, eyes sad and finally accepting the situation, he thinks of your mother acting in a similar manner or Abby when she was your age with the same attitude. It makes him relent, pressing his lips tight together. "What do you need me to do?" He asked, voice softer as he strokes your cheek. Your eyes brighten for a moment, a smile breaking out. "You're not going, I'm just asking what I could do to help."

You sink into the bed once more, crossing your arms.

"My director is gonna hate me," you mumble.

"I will deal with her, or she will deal with me. I promise you one's better than the other," he said. At that you crack a smile, finally looking at him.

"Mom's not gonna be pleased either," you said.

"Mom's not gonna let you go either," he said. "I'm getting the thermometer and then I'm moving you to the living room so I can watch you better. You get control of the TV as your consolation prize."

You twirl your finger in the air, rolling your eyes as emit a mocking 'yay,' glaring at him as he shoots the same glare down at you, walking out of the room and slipping his phone out of his pocket to call your mother.

"How upset are they?" She asked on the other side of the phone. He could hear the office chatter going on around her as he searched through the cabinets for the supplements they kept in stock.

"They're not thrilled. Not planning my death yet, but it's coming," Mike huffed. "Is it elderberry that helps with sore throats?"

"Elderberry makes it worse after you get sick, helps before. Don't give them that," she said. There's a slight pause before she adds "You realize this attitude is inherited?"

"Oh," he groaned, sucking on his teeth. "I wasn't gonna throw you under the bus like that."

"I helped raise Abby, do not pin this on me," she laughed.

"I don't deny sickness," Mike said.

"I can name five seperate instances where you did," she countered. Mike froze for a moment, trying to remember. "Just go easy on them. Remember you're dealing with your kid."

"And yours," he countered.

"Supposedly," she teased.

"I'm pretty sure that was you I knocked up."

"But are you sure?"

"Well, there was that one time with your mom."

She laughed. "Have them text me when they can. I'll deal with director, she knows me better."

"Thanks. She terrifies me. Kinda get why they don't wanna miss," Mike admitted. With a quick laugh and a quicker goodbye, Mike clicks off the call, slipping the phone back into his pocket. He gathered the vitamins in a small cup, grabbed the other needed items and made his way back to the room that used to house his little sister.

"Okay, Mom's dealing with director and is willing to grab dinner of your choice if you'll-" Mike trails off at the sight of your empty bed, worry prickling through and tainting the annoyance rising in his chest. He calls your name, turning to look for you before his ears tune in on the shower running in the bathroom. He sighs, placing the items on your bedside table and making his way to the living room. All is well until about ten minutes after the water shuts off, when he heard a small but sure 'thud' ring from the room.

"Honey?" He called. Nothing.

He rises from his chair, his mind trying to remind himself to stay calm and not jump to its automatic thoughts of harm and anxiety as he walked quickly to the door.

"If you don't answer I'm coming in," he warned. The quiet groan on the otherside is all he needed to quickly open the unlocked door, trying not to panic as he catches sight of you curled up on the floor with your head between your knees.

"I'm fine," you said quietly. "Got dizzy." Your clothes are thrown on haphazardly and it's clear how disoriented you are. Your hair doesn't even look properly washed.

Mike's arms are comforting, familiar and protective as he carefully lifts you up, taking you to the couch as though you weigh nothing to him. When his mind is racing like this, you may as well not.

"What were you thinking?" He asked in a panicked voice. "I told you you weren't going."

"My director hates me and tech is like, our biggest practice. I can't miss," you insisted, barely able to stand the light shining through the open windows. The couch is cool against your skin, the old leather offering relief. Mike had brought it home a few years back, a surprise he'd found at a thrift store with your help. Still pricey but a Christmas gift for everyone in the house. Your mother shook her head as she finally agreed maybe the couch that was as old as her needed to be replaced.

"Your mom is dealing with her and she's gonna deal with you next if you don't listen to either of us," Mike said. He ran back to your room, collecting the items and returning to your side before you could even respond. "Can you just let us take care of you?"

Oh. Oh. Fine, okay. There it is. He hears it now, that point your mother had just been making.

As the thermometer takes longer than he'd like to beep, he sighs at the sight of you looking like death on the couch. "You get this attitude from me," he finally sighed. You raise your brow quizzically, waiting for him to continue. A soft noise emits from the device. Mike takes it from your mouth and scowls at the number that flashes back at him. He hands you a now room temperature cup of throat coat tea with three ibuprofen to help with the fever before he takes your hand.

"Did I tell you about the time your mother had to drag me to the emergency room for stitches on my forehead?" He asked, smiling. You snort, taking another sip of your drink. "It happened when you were little. I don't even think you were two. Abby was going out with this idiot and figured out how to take out the screen in her window so she could sneak out without any of us knowing. This girl was bad news, I mean-"

"Aunt Abby?" You asked.

"What? No. No, the girl she was going out with, Lisa Browning. Had her come home with a belly button piercing once, I wasn't happy about that. Anyways, Abby decided that she was going to this party one night and I'd found her bed empty halfway through the night while I was going to check on you. Well, I decided I was gonna wait for her in her room with the lights off until she got home. So I sat in front of her window and eventually got tired, so I shut my eyes. Figured it couldn't hurt. Took a couple hours, but eventually your mother woke up and my side of the bed was empty and she heard this loud as fuck noise from your aunts room. This is like four in the morning, mind you," he said. "So she jumped out of bed and heard your aunt yelling, saw some guy in dark clothes on the floor, open window and the lights are off, and she's still wiping sleep out of her eyes."

"Oh no," you groaned.

"Oh yes. Grabbed some metal Eiffel Tower thing on Abby's desk and just swung at my head. Hurt like a bitch," he laughed, you joining in as much as you could without hurting your throat. "It was a good hit. I think she realized it was me when I grabbed her ankle and hollered her name cause she stopped right after that. Wasn't too bad, but I wouldn't stop bleeding."

"So did Abby get in trouble?" You asked.

"Are you kidding? I was even more pissed, I chased her down the hallway after her girlfriend climbed in and fell on top of me. I was ready to kill her. Your mother had to drag me and her into the car, go back and grab you and deal with us screaming at each other all the way to the hospital. Not that I wanted to go, I was fine with just pressing a dishcloth to the thing and carrying on with my plan to rip my sister a new one. She had to threaten us both to actually get me inside, and I only conceded because I was too dizzy to object by that point. I think the nurses assumed she was insane. I mean, kid on her hip, dressed in pajamas with some drunk teenager bickering with a guy bleeding from his head at the crack of dawn. I'm surprised no one called the cops. They did have to almost seperate Abby and I, though. Which just upset me more."

"How did they get you to calm down?" You asked.

"Your mother handed you to me while she walked Abby to a bathroom so she could take a go at her. And you were all upset anyways because I wasn't paying attention to you and you didn't understand why the nurses were fuckin' with me or why I was upset. Once I had you in my arms I refocused, calmed down a good bit. Someone brought me a book to read you and we got to focus on that while they prepped me for stitches," he said the last part softly. "I was so glad when Abby got out of her teen rebellion phase."

"She ruined mine," you joked.

"Yeah. She used pretty much every trick in the book, so we were ready for you. Sorry," he said.

"It's fine, I don't like parties."

"I don't either."

Mike's phone buzzed in his pocket. He checked it, typing a quick response before refocusing on you. "Your mother wants to know what you're thinking for dinner," he said.

"Chinese?" You asked.

"That comes from your mom's side," he smiled. "She'll be pleased."

¤▪︎{♧}▪︎¤

Short but sweet. This was a fun one :)

Taglist:

@jhutchissupercool @gh0u1ishly @joshhutchersons-slut @schmidtsbimbo @sugarevans @wompwompwomp57 . Thank you for your support! <3

Masterlist

[that-ari-blogger]

The Gospel Of Elphaba

In May 1900, the George M. Hill Company published The Wonderful Wizard Of Oz, a book written by L. Frank Baum and illustrated by W. W. Denslow. That book captured the imagination of its audience enough to get sequels and one of the most dangerous film adaptations to make of all time.

The book was about good and evil, and featured a stereotypical medicine journey about a child trying to return home. It discussed personal growth and childhood fantasy and is generally a good book, even with the elements that haven't aged as well (again, it was published in 1900).

But then, in 1995, Gregory Maguire wrote Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West, a fanfiction that takes a very different approach on the story. This book discusses the same themes, but from a different angle. Now things are complicated.

Enter Wicked, the musical, which dissects the themes even further, and uses its opening song, No One Mourns The Wicked to tear apart the idea of good and evil in the original book.

Let me explain.

SPOILERS AHEAD

I wasn't joking in the title of this post. No One Mourns The Wicked (NOMtW) and the musical as a whole do act as a gospel. Which is fascinating.

Now, I am not Christian, but I do have experience with the faith from a scholarly perspective and from growing up in a heavily Christian culture. As such, while I will treat the faith with the respect befitting any living religion, my perspective on it is that of an outsider looking in, so I cannot be considered a definitive source on Christianity.

The word "Gospel" comes from a few different sources, most notably "godspell" according to etymonline.com, which means "good spell" or "good message" or, if you really stretch the thesaurus, "good news."

The gospel of mark literally opens with "the beginning of the gospel of Jesus..." (English Standard Version) or "the beginning of the good news about Jesus..." (New International Version). So, the word is interchangeable.

And would you look at that, the opening words of NOMtW are:

"Good news, she's dead".

The song is deliberately drawing comparison between Elphaba and the Biblical Messiah, specifically with the defining act. Jesus' most famous act was his death, and the same is true for Elphaba. But both characters have more to their story than the surface level ideal, notably their perspective that people should be kind to each other, and that was why they were "killed". Also, neither of the two stay dead for very long.

But there is more to the similarity than just some neat little references, specifically in how they differ. And that might be contradictory, but it really isn't. Opposites are similar in how they relate specifically to each other. A thing can only be the opposite of something else, it can't be the opposite on its own.

NOMtW actively asks the question: "Was it actually good news?" Specifically in relation to Elphaba. Wicked is told from the perspective of Elphaba, and it frames her death as a tragedy. So NOMtW gives the audience the setup for that story.

"No one mourns the wicked!"

"No one cries they won't return!"

"No one lays a lily on their grave!"

Voiceplay has a phenomenal A cappella Medley for the Wicked musical that I highly recommend you check out.

These lines serve to build into the tragedy itself, they make you feel sad for the deceased person. But the anger with which they are said gives a different vibe. Suddenly, these become warnings, don't be wicked or else.

Fun fact: I was in a high school production of this musical, as a chorus member, and I was given the line about the lily. The director told to deliver the line as a threat to the audience, which reframes the meaning a bit, doesn't it? The chorus is telling you not to empathise with the Wicked Witch of the West.

And interestingly, that's who she is in this song. The name "Elphaba" isn't mentioned once. She is the Wicked Witch. That's who the audience thinks she is, and that's who the chorus thinks she is. The citizens of oz become the audience surrogates.

Glinda, the good witch, then begins to argue with the chorus. Her melodic voice contrasts with the spite of the Ozians, and that translates into her lyrics.

The conflict here is to confuse the audience, I think. It is to ask them who they think they should be agreeing with here. And when the chorus echos Glinda's words, they change them. Those last three lines become:

"And goodness knows,

the Wicked's lives are lonely.

Goodness knows,

The Wicked die alone.

It just shows when you're Wicked,

You're left only

On your own."

What is truth in this world? Can even that be trusted? That's what the musical as a whole seeks to answer, as well as what consequences that has on the real world.

"Nothing grows for the Wicked

They reap only

What they've sown"

"Are people born Wicked? Or do they have wickedness thrust upon them? After all, she had a father. She had a mother, as so many do"

I have put some of the above quote in bold, and that is because it is a fantastic question to ask in a story about good and evil. In the original book and subsequent film, the Wicked Witch of the West is evil because she does evil things. She tries to kill Dorothy on multiple occasions, so she is evil, right?

Here, Glinda asks a simple question: "Why did the witch do that?" And this part of the song becomes spoken instead of sung, to really emphasise the point.

But Glinda also tries to humanise Elphaba here, she had a mother and a father. This reminds me of another humanising moment, but not from the bible this time.

"Hath not a Jew eyes? hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions? ... If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? if you poison us, do we not die? And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge?"

This is from Act 3 Scene 1 of William Shakespeare's The Merchant of Venice, written in the 1590s. And it features Shylock, the outcast of the plot, appealing to a collection of people that he is in fact, just as human as them. He tries to convince them that the outsider is worth respect just as much as any other, and that his actions have motivations just as much as any other.

In that story, the appeal has no effect, and in Wicked, written 400 years later, I can't say it is any different.

The moment with the mysterious lover is important because it is yet another specific divergence from the biblical story. It turns out to be the Wizard, a man from another world, who comes to see the mother of the protagonist. But the divinity is removed, and that's a key element here. Elphaba isn't a one-to-one Jesus figure, she's had all of the intrinsic morality taken away and replaced with being green.

Elphaba is othered because of a physical alteration caused by elements she has no control over. She is outcast from even her family because of her appearance. I will talk in another post about what being green means in story, but for now, it is most certainly not heavenly, instead being linked with the garden of Eden with the snake and the apple.

That apple is a neat connection to the vial that the wizard offers Elphaba's mother, once again reframing the story. Now the Wizard gets aligned with the snake, making Elphaba the antichrist? This metaphor goes buck wild if you look too far into it.

Final Thoughts

I have a love for Wicked, to the point where it is one of those formative stories for me. The music is fun and as I grew up, I realised that I empathised with more characters than I was entirely comfortable with.

If this is the first of my posts you have read, I do analysis of storytelling. This will be a series on Wicked as a whole, specifically delving into the songs and what they say about the musical's themes. Next week, I will take a look at The Wizard And I, so stick around if that interests you.

Next

[blueskiesandwindchimes]

In the Darkness is the Light

I’m watching one of my favorite old Disney shows right now. It’s called So Weird. It had 3 seasons and was on Disney channel around the same time I was the main character Fi’s age. It still drives me nuts that Disney decided to completely change course for Season 3 and bomb the show to hell.

Season 2 ends with answers for Fi regarding her dad’s death in a very emotional way that also left us with new questions to be answered. Instead of continuing the story, Disney brings the storyline to a complete halt, by writing a new storyline that changes out the character of Fi with a new girl, Annie.

Annie is very different from Fi. Where Fi is seriously curious about the paranormal, Annie doesn’t go looking for things the same way. The subject of Fi’s dad never really comes up again and the mystery is never solved.

All these years later, as far as I know, there is no REAL information out there about what the originally planned storyline was supposed to be after season 2. I for one would love to know how the show was supposed to go…

I always identified with Fi because I was into ghost stories as well. I used to be the one in the family renting horror movies. There was definitely some concern, because I was basically a tween when I started getting into them, but no one ever really said anything to me about it. When So Weird came out it was like, awesome! There must be enough call for this that I’m not the only girl interested in this stuff.

I’ve had my share of experiences, mostly in the form of lucid dreams where I can’t move and am being attacked by an invisible force. When I say I couldn’t move, I could move, but it was really hard. The best thing I can compare it to is the hard to move feeling when riding the Gravitron at a carnival.

I watched a whole documentary a few years ago about the “hat man”. My experiences were similar except for like I said, the attacking entity being invisible. I know for me, I figured out that these dreams were being caused by me not going into a deep enough level of sleep before I started to dream and that this was being caused by me drinking caffeine too close to bedtime.

On the other hand though, I will say that the last time I had the dream, I was able to slowly force myself in the dream to a standing position in the bed, take a crucifix off the wall that was not there in real life, hold it out at arms length and scream at the invisible that I demanded in the name of Jesus Christ for it to leave. I woke up from that and never dreamed it again. That was roughly 15 years ago.

By the way, these dreams would happen about once every 2 months and went on for about a 2 year period. That entire time, I was in my early 20’s, and living with my grandma trying to figure out my life. The room that I slept in had a history of being haunted according to my uncles, but only that room and they never knew why. One uncle apparently used to be so scared in that room at night that he’d pee the bed rather than get up and go to the bathroom. That’s what I was told. My older female cousin who stayed in that room before me (she’d lived with my grandma through high school), said she always felt like something was watching her in that room as well.

So I guess what I’m saying is it’s certainly possible there was actually something there and that I was only truly vulnerable to it when something prevented me from going into a deep enough level of sleep. My grandparents are both gone now, and my mom bought out her siblings shared of the house, updated the whole thing because it looked like it was still in the 70s, and now is the one living there with my stepdad, my man-child brother, and his French wife who barely speaks English. 🤷‍♀️

[ollieofthebeholder]

to find promise of peace (and the solace of rest): a TMA fanfic

Read from the beginning on Tumblr || AO3 || My Website There's a soundtrack to this one if you're interested

Chapter 105: March 2001

Gerry gets back into town with exactly two hours to spare. It isn’t exactly optimal, but at least he’s able to grab a shower before rushing off. He has to double back when he almost forgets something important, and his mother tries to waylay him, but he manages to get away from her and catch the train just before it closes its doors.

Still, he’s a bit later than he’d like, and he just hopes Melanie is being optimistic.

The auditorium is crowded with families, from babes in arms to elderly folks, and it takes Gerry a good bit of scanning before he spots who he’s looking for. He distractedly thanks the student usher who hands him the folded bits of paper that constitutes a program and makes his way down the aisle to some seats on the left side of the theater, about three rows back. He’s in luck—there’s a seat next to Melanie that’s empty except for a bouquet of roses. From the fact that they’re mixed red and yellow, he guesses she’s the one that brought them.

“Does this mean you’re saving a seat for me?” he asks.

“Gerry!” Melanie’s face lights up, and she leaps to her feet and hugs him tightly. “Jesus, I thought you were still in Switzerland!”

“Luxembourg. Got back a couple hours ago.” Gerry leans over to shake Uncle Roger’s hand, then picks up the bouquet. “So, can I sit with you?”

“Duh.” Melanie plops back down into her seat and bends over to retrieve her program. Gerry notices she’s wearing the stole Alastair gave her for her ninth birthday, thrown over her jumper and jeans, but doesn’t say anything about it.

Instead, he opens his own program and skims it. There are two choirs that are more or less open—the Junior Choir and the Senior Choir—plus a Young Men’s Chorus and Women’s Ensemble, both by audition only, made up of students eligible for the Senior Choir but with a better grasp of things like pitch, musicality, and not bobbing your head violently along with the beat. This is Martin’s last year in the Junior Choir, and Gerry knows he’s planning to try out for the Young Men’s Chorus when they open up again…or has he already?

“Did Martin ever do that audition?” he asks Melanie, who would be the first to know.

“It’s not until next term, I don’t think,” Melanie answers. “It starts in the fall, after all. Anyway, he hasn’t said anything to me about it.”

Gerry hums as he skims the list of songs the Junior Choir will be singing. Unsurprisingly for the Easter term, there are a couple of songs that look to be religious, or at least trending in that direction—he knows “Because He Lives” is definitely an Easter song, and “One Song (A Song of Peace)” is probably similar—plus a couple generic spring songs, some songs that seem to just be for fun, and a single song in a foreign language, French this term. Gerry mentally braces himself for the typical childish hacking through the language.

“I haven’t heard Martin practicing any of these,” Melanie murmurs, also looking over the list.

“Well, you know, your mother isn’t well,” Uncle Roger says absently. “Martin doesn’t practice in the house so much, so he doesn’t disturb her.”

“There is that,” Melanie admits. She glances at the opposite page. “Ooh, the Young Men’s Chorus is doing ‘Diu Diu Deng’!”

Gerry is about to ask her what that means when the lights in the auditorium dim and everybody—for the most part—quiets down. It’s not like a professional performance where people understand what they’re supposed to do; it’s an amateur production, quality notwithstanding, and some people don’t seem to care how loud the crowd noise is as long as it’s not their child on the stage.

The Junior Choir, all neatly dressed in black slacks or skirts and white tops, file onto the stage in ordered rows, filling the risers as they do so, to enthusiastic applause and a few good-natured cheers. Gerry scans the group coming in; Martin, as both one of the older and one of the taller boys in the choir, is usually one of the first ones out so he can climb up and get to his spot, and he wants to get a good look at him before all he can see is eyes and hair over the row of faces going from plump to angular as they begin to change from child to teen.

But there’s no sign of him.

Gerry blinks, and looks harder—like Martin would be difficult to miss. But no, it’s only girls filing out now and climbing the risers. Martin is nowhere to be found. As the last child takes her position, the director, a man Gerry knows well by now, comes out and bows to the audience, then turns to the choir, waiting for the applause to    die down so they can begin.

For his part, Gerry is having something akin to a mental breakdown. Could Martin have dropped out of chorus without telling them…or worse, been removed against his will? It’s likely he wouldn’t say anything; he wouldn’t want them to worry. But would he let it get this far—let them think he was going to be in the concert, knowing he’ll be found out? That’s not Martin’s style at all. He’s not the kind of person to put people out, and for them to show up expecting to cheer him on would be (at least in Martin’s mind) a huge inconvenience. He surely knows by now that they will come to all his concerts; Gerry might go out of town more often than he likes, but Melanie and Uncle Roger never miss.

So it must be something else. Something must have happened to him…but what? Surely he rode in with Uncle Roger and Melanie rather than walking himself, so something must have happened to him since they arrived, but—

Melanie slaps his arm urgently, not hard, just a frantic patting to silently get his attention. Gerry turns to face her as the choir begins a slightly clumsy but overall decent (to his ear at least, not that he’s paying a whole lot of attention) rendition of their first spring song. The question dies on his lips as she stabs her finger repeatedly at the back of the program. With the lights down, Gerry can’t read it from there, so he picks up his own program and turns it to the back, then holds it closer to his face. The back of the program is where all the members of the various choruses are listed, and his first reaction is to breathe a silent sigh of relief when he sees MARTIN BLACKWOOD right there on the page, immediately above ANDREW CARTWRIGHT.

It’s awfully low down on the page, though. The Junior Choir is usually right at the top…

Gerry’s eyes flick up, just a little, and he sees the word TENOR, which is also unusual, since the Junior Choir is only two parts as far as he knows—he remembers Martin saying once they don’t start really breaking them up until Senior Choir. Then his eyes widen as he realizes that Martin’s name is on the far right of the page…and the column is actually headed TENOR 1.

He looks again, and there it is—Martin’s name listed under the Young Men’s Chorus.

Gerry—there’s no other word for it—goggles. He knows you’re supposed to be thirteen to get into that group; Martin won’t be thirteen until August. Then there’s the fact that, according to Melanie, he’s not supposed to start in it until the fall. But yet…here he is.

During the applause for the latest song, Gerry leans over and whispers to Melanie, “He wasn’t in the Young Men’s Chorus at Christmas, was he?”

“No!” Melanie hisses back. “The most complicated piece they did was ‘Dona Nobis Pacem’, remember?”

Gerry does, but he’s been wondering if he misremembered. Still, Melanie wouldn’t have said Martin was still planning to audition if he had already been in.

He can hardly concentrate through the first half of the concert, barely manages to applaud at the appropriate times, but when the Senior Choir sits down and the director announces the Young Men’s Chorus, he leans forward, anxious and eager.

Bit odd to call them ‘men’ when they’re thirteen to sixteen, isn’t it? whispers a voice in the back of his mind, sounding amused, and Gerry has to admit that it is a bit odd even if they did append young to the front, but he supposes that if they’re referring to the Women’s Ensemble they can’t very well call it a Boys’ Chorus. His eyes flick back and forth along the line of boys, young men, whatever, as they file in. There are only about a dozen of them all together, and—ah, there he is. Third from the end, he’s the taller of the two Tenor Ones on the front row. Even from where he sits, Gerry can see that he’s visibly pale and nervous, only not fidgeting in his tuxedo jacket and bow tie because he’s too much the professional to do so. But as soon as Martin’s eyes lock on the director, a whole new demeanor takes its place. He’s still pale, but he’s calm and focused. Nothing will exist for him from here on out but the music.

And what music it is! Even Gerry, who really knows very little about music overall, is impressed. For such a small group—now that they’re all out, he can count sixteen, four to each part—they fill the space, and they sound wonderful. Maybe he’s a little biased because Martin is part of it, but he never felt this way about the Junior Choir, only that Martin was one of the few good parts of it, so they must actually be good.

They sing a classic song with a lot of “hallelujahs” in it, another song that invokes the stars, and a song that has Melanie sitting bolt upright and smiling from the very beginning. Gerry surmises this is the one she mentioned before the concert. It’s obviously a Chinese song, and just as obviously about a train—Gerry doesn’t speak it, but he gets that much—and from the bright look on all the boys’ faces, not just Martin’s, they’re obviously enjoying it. It gets the loudest round of applause of the evening so far.

Once the auditorium is quiet again, there’s a single note on the piano that dies away quickly. The director waves a few beats, and then the boys begin singing a slow, sonorous song that thrums in Gerry’s chest. “Brightly beams our Father’s mercy…from His lighthouse evermore…”

Gerry lets his eyes drift shut as he listens. The song is poignant and solemn, but somehow feels…important. It’s almost as though the song itself is a beacon calling to them; in fact, it gives him almost the same sensation as that song Melanie sang a couple years back to find Martin in the park, an incident he still shies away from thinking about too hard or often. It’s a song of hope, of steadfast faith, of assuring someone that you’ll be there for them, no matter what.

And then a single clear, pure voice rings out over the room. “Throw out the lifeline, throw out the lifeline, someone is drifting away…”

At that, Gerry’s eyes pop open wide, because he knows that voice. His lips part in shock as he stares at the stage. Martin, his eyes shining green all the way from out here as they fix on the director’s baton, sings the verses to the second half of what’s obviously a medley, alone and unaccompanied and unafraid. Martin, who is always nervous and afraid of putting himself out there, who stammers any time he’s put on the spot, sings with a confidence that’s no different than when it’s just the three of them in a park or on the river bank or on top of a hill, with the unfettered pleasure of someone doing what he’s always meant to do.

And Gerry, who has heard Martin sing a thousand times, who knows his voice is like this, is utterly entranced.

There’s a beat of silence when the whole choir finishes a reprise of the chorus of the first song, and then the audience nearly takes the roof off the auditorium with their applause. Martin’s cheeks turn faintly pink as the director gestures to him, but he doesn’t duck his head or back away, which is…honestly progress.

The boys do a fast, peppy song about putting bones together and taking them apart again, and then they end with an absolutely gorgeous song Gerry’s never heard before, but he recognizes the lyrics as being one of Martin’s favorite Byron poems, “She Walks In Beauty”. Gerry’s pretty sure he’s not the only one that tears up a little.

The Women’s Ensemble goes next, and in Gerry’s totally unbiased opinion, they should have gone before the Young Men’s Chorus, because they can’t hold up. The director calls everyone out for the final song, which they do at virtually every single concert, and then it’s over.

Melanie is beaming ear to ear as she turns to Gerry. “That’s the best one ever.”

Gerry can’t help but laugh at her. “You’re just saying that because Martin got a solo.”

“No, I’m saying it because it was amazing.” Melanie shifts the bouquet to one hand and punches Gerry with the other. “Come on. Let’s go find him so we can yell at him for not telling us.”

The lobby and halls are crowded with people finding and congratulating their respective students. Melanie greets and congratulates a couple of girls she evidently knows at least in passing—as usual, they act polite but not particularly enthusiastic—but it takes Gerry a bit before he spots Martin trying to edge his way around the crowd. He nudges Melanie and points. “Look, there he is!”

Melanie shoves the bouquet at Uncle Roger and immediately starts threading her way through the crowd. She’s always had a talent for this sort of thing, and she slides through the gaps like water sliding through cupped hands. Gerry glances over his shoulder at Uncle Roger, unable to hide his amusement. “Well, she’s going to get there first. Shall we?”

Uncle Roger gestures. “Lead the way.”

Gerry is not particularly large or intimidating, so he can’t exactly shove people out of his way, and he’s not as agile as Melanie. He squeezes through whatever gaps he can, Uncle Roger’s polite “excuse me”s following him, and makes it to Martin’s side well after Melanie has attacked him in a tight hug.

“You’re an absolute ass,” she says, the delight in her voice belying her words. “Why didn’t you tell us you’d got into the Young Men’s Chorus already?”

“It—it was a last-minute thing,” Martin says, his cheeks turning bright pink. The blush gets even deeper when he notices Gerry. “When—wh-when did you get back?”

“Just in time.” Gerry comes over and hugs Martin, too. “What do you mean, last-minute thing? That’s not something you can just learn at the last minute.”

“No, I—I mean, not—” Martin swallows nervously. “It, um, over the break at half-term, Joseph White had to have his tonsils taken out, and something went wrong, so he couldn’t sing anymore. He told Dr. Clayton to run the auditions early and pick someone to replace him, and…well, I-I guess I was the only person to audition who could hit Tenor One parts who did well enough to start now?”

Gerry doubts that, actually, but he’s not going to say as much. Instead, he says, “But then you got the solo?”

“Not originally. It was supposed to be Kent Phillips, but he missed his cue one day and I just, I kind of jumped in out of habit, and Dr. Clayton asked me to take over.” Martin ducks his head, obviously embarrassed. “I know I shouldn’t have, but…”

“Yeah, well, obviously Dr. Clayton doesn’t think so,” Melanie points out.

Uncle Roger finally makes it over to them, smiling broadly. He presents Martin with the bouquet. “Well done, son. It’s a shame your mother couldn’t make it, but if you’d told us you had a solo, I know she would have been here.”

Yeah, right, whispers that voice in Gerry’s head. Gerry grunts his agreement without thinking. Melanie scowls momentarily, but says nothing. Martin, for his part, manages a tentative smile that at least looks convincing as he accepts the bouquet, even though he doesn’t actually agree with his stepfather’s assessment. “Thanks, Dad. I’m glad you could make it, anyway.”

“Wouldn’t have missed this for the world.” Uncle Roger rumples Martin’s hair affectionately. “Come on. After that, I think you deserve ice cream. Gerard, care to join us?”

“I’d love to. Thanks, Uncle Roger.” Gerry smiles up at the man and throws an arm around Martin’s shoulders. “He’s right. Let’s go celebrate, yeah? Even if you think it was an accident, that was a damned good performance and you deserve to celebrate.”

Melanie slides her arm around Martin’s waist from the other side. Obviously unable to protest, he lets them drag him outside, Uncle Roger leading the way.

Okay, the voice in the back of Gerry’s head whispers. Why this? Why tonight?

Why not? Gerry asks the voice.

Sorry, Ger. Not talking to you right now, just trying to work some stuff out. We’ll talk later.

Gerry feels something inside him warm, for reasons he can’t explain. But since his brain has just informed him they’re not going to be on speaking terms for the rest of the night, apparently—he swears he can hear someone laughing at him all of a sudden—he decides that’s a problem for later. For now, he’s going to concentrate on his siblings, and on his Uncle Roger, and on ice cream.

He can worry later.

[plutobutartsy]

no because i've been thinking a lot about how i would rewrite mlb even though i'm NOT a writer lol so here's a list of things i can think of right now:

chloe redemption!! they did her so dirty she deserves so much better and there's so much wasted potential :( i would go more in detail about her family issues and how they affect her. with zoe i think it would make sense for chloe to see her as a sort of rival, as in wanting to be the favourite child and being scared that with zoe being there, her mom will spend even less time with her

we all know that marinette's crush on adrien is very obsessive and that the show portrays her creepy behaviour as normal. so. none of that. i think in the beginning she would put him on a pedestal and act accordingly but she would soon realize that he's. just a dude. and acknowledge that her way of thinking was wrong. this would also lead to her being a bit less nervous and stutter-y around him lol and to them actually being able to build a closer friendship

a similar thing with adrien and ladybug! to me it feels like in the show chat noir is a lot more of a sidekick so maybe in the beginning he also had a pretty glorified view of ladybug which caused him to rely a bit too much on her? if that makes sense?? so when he eventually starts to realize that under the mask she's also just a person he would take a much more active role you know?

alternatively i think it could also tie into underlying self-esteem issues, like "ladybug is so great and amazing, there's no way i could do more than just follow her lead, i'd just get in the way"

less irresponsible adults

they are 14. they need help. su han actually had a point when he said that they were just kids. so he would definitely take on more of a mentor role. maybe him and marinette would compromise that, for now, she would renounce her role as guardian and let him take over. in exchange, he would start training her so she's ready to take on the role when she is an adult and can handle it better.

su han would also train marinette and adrien when it comes to fighting and understanding their powers because it's just so unrealistic that they learned how to fight perfectly on the fly lmaoo so i think while they have come a long way on their own, they still need a lot more guidance

obviously he would know both their identities and you know. be an actually responsible adult. so he would deffo be a support system for them (especially for adrien because jesus that boy has no trusted adult figure in his life </3 he would probably pose as an ordinary tutor or something to by-pass gabriel)

su han would also do a lot more of the background hero work. so researching the miraculous', looking into potential temporary holders that AREN'T all children and from the same social circle as marinette, and especially going after clues to find out who shadowmoth is

moving on

i really hated how lukanette ended up being portrayed on the show

so personally, i find it much better for them to be friends until eventually marinette gets over adrien. she realizes that if she doesn't confess to him, nothing would change. lukanette wouldn't happen until marinette is over her feelings for adrien

design changes. so many of them. i especially hate rose's outfit i'm sorry it's hideous lol i might actually draw some redesigns and post them on my art blog :)

that's all i can think of right now

[learningselflove]

Your partner in life should be an extension of who you are. 

It took me some time to figure that out.  

I’m definitely glad that I ended up with someone who encourages me to be the best version of myself. However, I look back on past relationships and laugh about them. They’re not all bad people, but we definitely wouldn’t have worked out. I’ve had four meaningful relationships which include the one I’m in now. By meaningful, I mean we called it an official relationship where I learned something valuable about myself through each one. Each relationship was an experience that changed me as a person. I was changed for the better. Each one built my self confidence and I learned how to be a better partner.  

When I was thirteen, my best friend told the boy I liked that I had a crush on him. I was mortified. I met him when we were 8. I was very close friends with his older cousin. We met at her birthday party at the end of July. It was muggy. All the kids found relief from the hot dense summer air n the pool. We were drawn to one another because we were both the youngest ones there. I was thrilled to have a new friend.  

We found each other again in middle school. I was still mourning the loss of my mom. I was painfully shy. I was very quiet in class. I never spoke to teachers unless I was spoken to first. He was similar. He was also quiet. That’s what I liked about him. I appreciated that we had similar personalities but I also admired his long, wavy brown hair, freckles and soft brown eyes.  

We were friendly at a distance until 8th grade. We were assigned at a table together with my best friend. We exchanged phone numbers. He knew that I liked him but he was kind to me anyway. Shortly after, we started to text each other. We would ask each other questions and try to get to know each other. “Are you religious?” I asked. He responded in a way that implied he believed in God but didn’t elaborate on his faith. I didn’t think much of it. I was questioning my own faith during these years. It had only been two years since I lost my mom and I felt like God couldn’t exist if He was going to leave a child without a mother. He said something along the lines of that he believed in God but didn’t make it a part of his every day life.  

It wasn’t long after that he became my first boyfriend. We spent four whole months together (That may as well have been four years in terms of middle school relationships!). He was my first kiss. I spent as much time as possible with him when we weren’t at school.  

On our four month anniversary he texted me that we needed to break up. I never really received an explanation other than, “Jesus told me to.” What kind of response was that? It broke me. I thought there was something wrong with me. I thought I was some sort of evil heathen. Society and Catholicism made me feel immense guilt if I didn't believe. I thought my dating life was over at 14.  

I reflect on it now and laugh. Honestly, it still bothers me that I never got an explanation further than that. It also bothers me that we never spoke again. But it is also important for me to remember that we wouldn’t have been compatible in the long run. I was an atheist and he was in a religious youth group. Some people have managed to make differences like that work somehow, but it couldn’t work for me.  

I have really refined my values in what I was looking for in a partner. I owe a lot of that to finding my self worth. When you’re putting negativity out there, it will also come to you. When I was 20, I went through some major changes. I was no longer in the comfort zone of high school. I was a young adult who was trying to figure out her purpose in life. I met the partner I could only dream of at a time I didn’t expect. We met in cosmetology school. You couldn’t convince me that I’d find my future husband in cosmetology school when I started.  

He is my motivator. He makes me feel beautiful. He also lives the saying of “if he wants to, he will”. Before we lived together, he would text me “good morning” every single day. It’s the little actions like that that show me he cares. When you’re with someone who cheers you on at every milestone, you feel good about yourself. My partner makes me excited to go through life with him. I truly found my other half. He is an extension of myself.  

[finsterhund]

Fuck man.

So I did eventually end up returning to watching We're All Going To The World's Fair and skipped past the scene that had the big trigger but it's still a doozy of a movie to process. Jesus Christ.

Maybe I'm just still shaken up over that but I am thinking. I am thinking with my mind.

This film is essentially a horror narrative centered around how gen Z, my generation, as neglected preteens with unrestricted access to an at this point now actively predatory and manipulative social media based internet, can devolve into harmful coping mechanisms, destructive tendencies, normalization of neurosis, and evidently have an almost infinite amount of ways to get ourselves hurt. This probably applies to millennials who grew up with the internet too but I noticed this movie is very prominently leaning towards the way it is for zoomers. The base story is that a creepypasta "ritualpasta" (challenge game) called "the world's fair" is something that goes viral for kids to do and document the supposed "paranormal changes" they experience from it. The reality of the game and whether it's all just psychosomatic or a scam is up for debate but the impact it has on vulnerable youth definitely isn't.

The main character is very apparently at least to me, either played by someone who is, or was intentionally played to be, neurodivergent and much of Casey's mannerisms, traits, the way mania fronts in particular, etc. are very similar to myself which adds to the relatability of the base concept and really made me queasy watching.

There's also ambiguous themes of potential grooming(?????) I got the impression the adult character had his own kid die from this or had some severe delusions surrounding the game and he was trying to help but he comes off as behaving somewhat predatory regardless of interpretation. Much of his behaviors are similar to common online grooming behaviors.

This movie really fucking made me think about shit and I got very uncomfortable.

Not to immediately just go back to thinking about Skinamarink but... I think it's pretty easy to interpret that movie as horror-izing thoughts of childhood neglect. And how they differ. Skinamarink if interpreted as being about abuse neglect is about toddler years and being left to fend for yourself, dealing with basal fear instincts when you're just starting to learn how to be your own guardian in the first place. The first sparks of independence. While We're all Going to the world's fair is about the teenage years of neglect. It's less basal. It's more complicated. There's a level of perceived invincibility. There's a level of forced responsibility that is placed on one's shoulders because adults no longer see you as a child but won't give you the autonomy they give to adults.

And with Skinamarink I can joke and I can take the scene where a voice in the dark tells Kevin about the knife and parrot it back into being about getting crushed under a falling dresser or getting my finger stuck in a mechanical toy or almost eating bleach powder or splitting my head open on concrete. Because I've grown in my mental health recovery and have an understanding of who I am as a person and what it means to be me on that basal toddler level. I'm at a point of recovery where I've gotten a handle on that. (For the most part. I deal with regression at times obviously if you've known me for a while you can attest.) So this is something I have learned how to use humor to cope with. When I look back and say "man that's fucked up" it's from a place of "I'm not in that headspace now. I'm bigger and stronger. I have overcome"

But not the teenage years. I have made no progress compartmentalizing and unpacking that can of worms. Maybe it could be said I am more selfaware. And that's really made me realize that yeah, I have comparatively made nowhere near the recovery and emotional maturity towards processing and overcoming the neglect and abuse in my preteen to teenage years. I do not have the capacity to process those feelings in any way that's constructive and healing at this point. Not the emotional maturity or depth. I put up walls and that's "good enough" but without the walls I get panicked and anxious. At that point construction of the self becomes so much more complicated. And the self construct is something I struggle greatly with as is.

And that's really made me uncomfortable. I know that finding this out is beneficial but I'm scared to even think about that. Most of those years are extremely repressed. It's a fucking mess. I will break down if exposed to this.

God.

There needs to be better groups and support networks for children in this world. So many legal guardians do a shit fucking job and never have to answer for it when it's permanently altered the minds and destiny path of someone who had no choice in the matter. This can lead us down some dark paths that not all of us will end up living through by the end. I've lost friends that way. I try not to think about that either. I can't accept that kids who I was close to during the transition from elementary to middle to high school aren't alive anymore. It's cruel. There's survivors guilt. I wonder why I didn't go through the same. And I dwell on things.

Gonna try to calm down. I generally am fine with horror movies so I wasn't expecting this reaction from watching a movie. But then again the stuff I've desensitized myself to on purpose is not this sort of topic. It's the more basal fears. I can watch a slasher flick no problem. It's easier to desensitize yourself to basal fears.

Should book another appointment with my psychiatrist and therapist. 😢 It's long overdue for both but grieving has gotten in the way of everything else. My doctor is on holiday for around when I'm supposed to be in for my surgery also.

I'd like to hope I'm smarter and better and more functional and a good person when compared to my teenage years. Much to think about.

I want to try to think of something else though. Not ready to be introspective about this. Not ready to challenge.

[linkspooky]

White Wolf, Black Wolf:  Yuji and Geto

Dualism, is a common theme in Jujutsu Kaisen. There’s a difference between binary opposites and a completementary pair. Binary opposites supposes that two ideas are complete opposites of eachother, they are enemies and therefore cannot coexist. Death is the opposite of life. However, ideas like the concept of yin and yang suggest that these pairs are not opposites, or even enemies, they just exist alongside one another. The feminine yin contains a single dot of the masculine yang energy inside of it and vice versa. 

This pattern repeats itself with both Geto and Yuji. Two characters who seem like they are complete opposites, enemies, hero and villain and yet have far more in common with one another than one might thing. Each of them represented by a wolf, Yuji the white wolf, and Geto the black. 

Dualism - describing how seemingly opposite or contrary forces may actually be complementary, interconnected, and interdependent in the natural world, and how they may give rise to each other as they interrelate to one another.

1. You and the Worst Person You Know Have More in Common than You Thought

Both Yuji and Geto are sharing their body with another existence. Not only that but a sorcerer from the previous era. Sukuna started out as a sorcerer, and one from the golden age of sorcerers. We don’t know who is in Geto yet, but they’ve made it clear several times that they’re not a sorcerer from this era, mockingly referring to the sorcerers of this era as beneath them. The difference is, Yuji is the dominant personality and Geto is the subordinate one. They even fight for control of their body in the same way, by grabbing their neck. 

Both Yuji and Geto have died, and then been improbably brought back to life one time already and had their body healed by the same person who seeks to steal their body. They also both died in front of their other half, their friend, Yuji dies heroically in front of Megumi sacrificing himself so Megumi doesn’t have to call Mahoraga, and Geto dies as a villain after his plan has failed executed by Gojo. Even the days they die are opposites, Geto dies in a clear sky and Yuji dies in the rain. 

They both eat curses. Geto eats them physically in order to store them and use them later. Yuji consumes Sukuna’s fingers in order to grow stronger. Geto’s Jujutsu is themed around his stomach, Sukuna’s is cooking themed. 

Yuji and Geto are both have savior / martyr imagery attached to them. They’re both people who have died, and come back from the dead at least once, and the jesus imagery with Geto is clear and explicitly referenced in hidden inventory. 

Yuji wants to be strong like Gojo, but it’s clear he follows Geto’s philosophy of wanting to save as many people as possible. What motivates him isn’t a clear and strong sense of individualism, but rather the idea that the strong are duty bound to help the weak. Even when Geto’s completely out of his mind he’s still guided by that principle, if he has the strength to do it, then he’s duty bound to try to change the world in the way he sees fit. The thing with Geto is his ideals are warped, but they’re still ideals, he has principles guiding him. These ideals also shockingly sound similiar to what Yuji says, and the burdens he wants to carry. 

It’s something that doesn’t change about Geto from the start to the end of Hidden Invenotry, the strong are obligated to help the weak, it’s just Geto flipped. he sees the sorcerers as the weak and oppressed people, and the masses as the strong ones. 

Geto and Yuji are both people heavily preoccupied with doing the right thing, whereas Gojo and Megumi kind of don’t care (Gojo) / have already accepted the fact (Megumi) that they’re not really saving people with their actions. Geto and Yuji are reckless saviors, they kind of just want to save everybody they see suffering in front of them immediately without thinking through the consequences of their actions. It’s never been seriously analyzed why Yuji feels so deadset on saving others, but from early on he seems to like the idea that it’s a burden that only he can take on himself. It’s something he must duty. The same way that Geto binds himself by the idea of duty. 

Geto and Yuji are just people who will take the whole world on their shoulders, and this isn’t just a parallel I’m making it’s one directly made by the narrative. When worrying about Yuji’s future, Yaga thinks directly of Geto someone who became overwhelmed by everything on is shoulders.

Geto wasn’t able to carry on as he once did, because he couldn’t carry the regret with him. That’s the parallel that the story is making with Yuji, that’s the danger Yuji is in. 

2. Worst Person You Know Makes a Good Point

Chapter 132 there’s a definite change in Yuji’s demeanor. While we haven’t seen the full results of his change yet, not only has he been phsically scarred on his face, but it’s clear the deaths of Nanami, the people killed by Sukuna, all have served to harden him. Nanami wanted Yuji to remain a child a little bit longer, but Yuji has now become a jujutsu sorcerer. However, the words he declares to Mahito have two clear connections to Geto. One, it’s what Geto said to Gojo to stop him from slaughtering the star plasma vessel cult in the moment. 

Gojo has feelings of course, but he’s not moved by them the same way that Geto and Yuji are. Gojo was in need of a tether in that moment and Geto’s words became his tether. Remember Gojo became so powerful as the strongest one he felt like he was capable of anything without feeling it, even slaughtering people on mass, but in that moment Geto became the link that held him back and reminded him he was human. 

What’s ironic is that Gojo was moved by Geto’s words and held himself back, whereas Geto wasn’t. It was Gojo who stuck to those words a year after the fact. He was the strongest, but he doesn’t ever act unless he carefully considers it. He doesn’t just throw power around or slaughter people the way that Geto does. 

What Yuji is vowing to do right now, following his duty as a jujutsu sorcerer without even thinking about it, is exactly what drove Geto apeshit bananas (you see because he loves monkeys so much. It’s a, ‘yknow, it’s one of them jokes). 

Yuji thinks he can just keep going on without thinking and being nothing more than a cog, but it’s exactly that kind of mechanical subservience that completely wore out Geto. Simply going through the motions without questioning it is given to us as the exact reason for Geto’s downfall, it’s one of the most chilling sequences in the manga. 

People aren’t machines, and they aren’t gears, they break down when they try to conform that way. So while it’s understandable Yuji would want to push away all his thoughts in the moment, it’s also not healthy.

The reason Geto became the way he is, is because he realized the laws he was obeying weren’t as fair as he thought they were. He thought it was his duty, and obligation to help the masses, until he looked at his actions with closer scrutiny and realized that wasn’t really what motivated him. Geto thought what he was doing was good, that he would save people, but then Riko’s death was a reality check to him that no one was getting saved by the current system. Yuji seems to have done the opposite of Geto so far. Perhaps I won’t save people. Perhaps I’m just a cog in the machine and my actions truly don’t matter as long as I can keep fighting with my comrades as a jujutsu sorcerer. However, that’s probably not going to work for him.

Yuji’s current comfort in his moment of crisis is that he’s fighting together with all of his comrades, that he carries the wishes of people like Nanami and that’s why he has to keep going, but Yuji also might not have comrades in the jujutsu world after this. We already see people like Kusakabe beginning to turn against him because of Sukuna’s rampage in Shibuya. 

So my intention in all of this is to say it’s not black and white. (Because, get it?? black wolf, white wolf??? Okay, I’m sorry I’ll shut up). Geto wasn’t an entirely bad person, there was good in him too. There was still good in him. This is what Getwo says when he’s beating on Yuji, that if Geto had used his forces more like disposable pawns instead of family telling them to fall back and making sure they all lived he would have won. 

The worst person you know, was still a human being who loved his family with all of is heart. Ideas like this challenge Yuji’s simplified reasons for fighting, and his naive view of the world. 

At the end of the day Yuji and Geto have lots of similarities. They’re opposite colors, Geto black, Yuji white, but they are both still wolves. They’re both moved by deep emotions they feel at the pit of their stomachs. They’re both people who sympathize with others and want to save them, and at the same time get angry and want to kill their enemies. None of this is bad about Yuji in fact it’s what makes him unique among shonen protagonist, he’s not a wholly good person, but just as flawed as anyone else in the story. Nobara’s crazy, Megumi’s crazy, Gojo’s crazy, and then there’s Yuji who should have been the normal one who grew up with a normal life and who is just as crazy as all the rest. 

If anything the parallels between Yuji and Geto show that Yuji is someone who has the chance to grow stronger than Geto by learning from Geto’s fault. Geto tried to carry too much, until the burden of saving the world broke him and he decided he could only save a few people the rest were just monkeys. It’s up to Yuji now to figure out what saving people means, and how he can help others without getting destroyed by the sense of responsibility or just killing himself and dying before he’s helped a single person. However, for Yuji to learn to be better he actually has to think about these things.

That’s also the second parallel to the “I don’t need to think about it’ Scene. (Besides, Sukuna who also declares that he’ll kill for no reason.) In the original Geto fight in the prequel manga Yuta declares this. He doesn’t know whether Geto is right or not, he doesn’t know anything about the world of Jujutsu he just wants to protect his friends. 

Geto calls him egotistical. In the sense that just like a child, he’s only really thinking about himself and his own emotions. Of course Yuta thinks that way because he is a child, a traumatized teenager at that. However, one important detail about this fight is defeating Geto did not cause him to go away. Killing him didn’t actually fix the problem. Geto just came back a year later with somebody else in his body. 

I think this is all leading up to a point for Yuji where he gives some serious self examination as a protagonist. It’s not enough for Yuji to just defeat his enemies. We even see that when after is triumphant moment with Mahito, Geto just wipes the floor with him.

Jujutsu Kaisen presents a very complex world, that’s not  just black and white, not just winning and losing. The next big step in Yuji’s character development is probably going to be realizing this. That he needs to seriously think about his reason. That he needs to think about what he wants to do in the future. It’s not enough for him to sacrifice his life to save someone else, he’s not a hero, or some martryr to a cause. I think the most important thing Yuji has to learn at the end of all of this is to actually live, and find out why he’s alive instead of resigning himself to the fact that he’ll get executed one day. It’s only then Yuji will be able to reach his full potential as both a jujutsu sorcerer and a person. 

He’s just a kid you know? The theme of the manga is kids should get to be kids. Yuji should get to grow up just like everybody else, instead of dying before he’s even old because he ate Sukuna’s finger to help someone else. 

[bqstqnbruin]

Always be my plus one

Here we go, y'all. We're ignoring that it's 3:30 in the morning but I'm just yeeting the first part of this into the wild and hoping it goes well. Ignore typos, we all know that everything I post is a first draft.

I need to thank @hockeywocs, @chara-hugs, and @zinka8 (WHY CAN't I TAG YOU) and all the anons who have come into my ask box to help me with this! ily all!

WARNING: some description of child birth

Hope you like it!

Series masterlist

------------------------------

Part 1: Christmas Day and the day after Christmas

The name for Christmas comes from the shortening of “Christ’s Mass,” a traditionally Christian holiday that celebrates the birth of Jesus Christ to the Virgin Mary and Joseph in a manger in Bethlehem. Although the exact date of his birthday is unknown, around the fourth century the Catholic church fixed the date of this celebration to be December 25th. Other religions and belief systems have similar celebrations around the same time, such as the Winter Solstice, or Midwinter. Celebrations include a mixture of pre-Christian, Christian, and non-secular traditions, such as gift giving, completing an Advent Calendar or Advent Wreath, Christmas music, church services, a special meal with family and loved ones, Christmas trees, lights, nativity scenes, and Santa Claus to name a few.

The day after Christmas, known as Boxing Day in some European countries, is traditionally known as a shopping holiday. In America, this is typically the day when people start to return any unwanted Christmas gifts, stock up for next Christmas on items that are marked down on sale, or see friends that they hadn’t been able to see before Christmas.

=============

December 21, 2021

“One fifteen means fifteen minutes before I have to clock in. Fifteen minutes before a twelve-hour shift that I’m not ready for and don’t have enough caffeine for,” Anne muttered to herself, staring at her reflection through her car's rearview mirror. “But, fifteen minutes before getting to do something that I thankfully love, something that I enjoy doing.” No matter how long the shift in front of her, Anne had developed a habit of giving herself a pep talk before she got out of her car. “Whatever happens, you’ve helped someone.”

The last part wasn’t always true, knowing that there was the possibility that something could go wrong that she and the other nurses and doctors wouldn’t be able to fix. Lying to herself that everything was going to be ok was the only want to convince herself to go into the hospital every day. Finally mustering up enough courage to get out of her car, she grabs her bag from the backseat, heading in for yet another long day right before the Christmas holiday.

The maternity ward where Anne worked never ceased to be hectic, the miracle of life happening at least once an hour. No matter how much Anne had studied in nursing school, nothing could have prepared her for the stress that could come from the job, the long hours, the potential for something so right to turn so wrong in a minute, the way nothing can go planned since the baby dictated all, the mess that comes with every birth, or the joy that results from a former patient sending her the occasional picture of a baby she helped deliver as they’re growing up.

“Hey, Tyson, come on!” comes from inside the open doors of the building, Anne not paying attention to who it was coming from, causing her to collide with a stranger, spilling her much-needed coffee all over the both of them.

“Shit,” she says, not looking up from the brown splatter on what should be mint green scrubs. “I am so sorry.”

Standing in front of her was a curly-haired boy, about her age, wearing what she was sure was a Colorado hockey jersey. Beyond that, she had no idea. “No, no, it’s my fault. I wasn’t looking where I was going. Let me buy you another,” he offers, ignoring the persistent calls from his friends to hurry up.

Anne checks her watch: 1:19. “It’s ok. I don’t really have the time, I have to clock in in eleven minutes, and knowing the cafeteria or the vending machines, it would take a lot longer,” she says, trying to get by him. Before he can protest, she gets to the elevator that would bring her to her floor, thankful that it was ready to get her there without her having to wait. The doors start to close, only to be stopped by a hand stuck through them, the curly-haired boy with the coffee stain down the front of him getting on the elevator with her. Anne gives him a confused look, begging him to explain why he was trying to make her late for her shift.

“If you aren’t going to let me buy you one now to make up for it, at least let me see where you work so I can drop one off for you.”

Anne rolls her eyes, unamused by the man in front of her as he attempts to flirt with her. “That would be nice, but the chances of me getting it before it goes cold are slim to none, so you need to suggest something else if you really want to buy me a coffee.”

“Let me get your number so I can buy you one when you aren’t working?” he asks, reaching into his pocket to pull out his phone. 1:25. “I’m Tyson, by the way.”

The elevator dings, signaling that they were on Anne’s floor, opening the door to nurses and doctors running around, expectant fathers who were probably kicked out of the delivery room for making the mom too nervous pacing the halls, grandparents trying to control younger children who had little to no idea what was going on as they waited in the strange building. Anne walks to the backroom to drop her stuff off and clock in, typing her information into the stranger’s phone as he followed her like a puppy, his friend’s texts coming across the top of his screen asking where he went so they could leave.

“I’m Anne, and I’ve got to go,” she tells him, handing back his phone. There was no way he was going to text her, and it’s not like the coffee was that big of a deal to him. She could go to the vending machine down the hall and grab one during her break, or have someone else on their break do it for her if she needed it sooner.

“Can’t wait for our coffee date, Anne,” he says, winking at her before shoving his hands in his pockets and sauntering back down the hallway.

“Who is he?” her coworker, Jess asked, popping up out of nowhere. “He’s hot.”

“In more ways than one, apparently,” Anne jokes, “he’s also wearing my hot coffee on his shirt.”

“You didn’t,” Jess scolds her, turning her around to see the coffee that was spilled down Anne’s own outfit, knowing Anne’s tendency to be a little absent-minded as she gets wrapped up in her own thoughts. “Anne, you did.”

“Not on purpose!”

“DeFormicola?” Anne’s supervisor, Jackson, pops his head into the room just as she was clocking in, “We need you in room 414.”

“Saved by the bell,” Anne teases, walking down the hall to where all the noise was coming from, trying to throw on the appropriate clothing before she went into the room, struggling to get the gloves on as she entered.

“Ok, Erin, we’re going to need you to push,” one of the doctors says, Anne standing behind him as she watched the baby’s head crowning.

This was her favorite part of the job, helping the mother stay calm and trying to make sure that despite the child coming out of her, she was as comfortable as possible. Normally, she would be with the mom as soon as she came in, Erin clearly nervous as to what was going on. They had to be first-time parents, the dad going back and forth to Erin’s side and behind the doctor, looking mortified each time and clearly regretting what he was seeing.

“It’s a boy!” the doctor says, handing the new baby to a breathless Erin.

“A boy! A boy!” the dad yells, going out to the hallway, Erin clearly unamused by whatever antics he was going about.

“Don’t worry, he’s not the first one to do that,” Anne reassures her, knowing that something like that would happen at least five more times during her shift, hearing the father’s voice repeating the phrase. “I’m going to get him cleaned up and then get him right back to you, ok?” Anne asks, reaching for the baby as everyone else around her tries to clean everything else up.

“Be careful with him,” Erin warns, not meaning anything bad by it. She was definitely a first time mother.

“I will be,” Anne tells her, feeling her phone vibrate in her pocket as she does. “So you have a name picked out yet?”

“We were thinking Matthew.”

Anne turns her head, smiling at Erin. “That’s a good name. My older brother is named Matthew.”

Erin smiles at her, the father finally coming back in, clearly overjoyed by the birth of their new baby. Anne hands him back to his parents, Matthew screaming his head off as they get wheeled into another room.

Anne goes over to the desk, sitting down where she was supposed to be for the start of her shift to do paperwork, but the uncertainty in the hour by hour of the schedule was not surprising. She pulls out her phone, ‘Maybe: Tyson’ coming up across her screen.

“He’s already texting me,” she alerts Jess whose head whips away from her computer to look over Anne’s shoulder at what message the mystery man could have sent her.

“He’s horny.”

“Jessica!” she squeals, wishing she was more shocked by what her friend had said. “Why is that always your first reaction to a boy sending a message?”

She shrugs, swiveling back to her own computer, “I’m normally right. What’s he saying?”

“He wants to know when he can buy me coffee.”

“Horny.”

“Enough.”

“You should date him.”

Anne turns to her, clearly unamused by Jess’s need to continue the conversation. “I don’t have to date anyone.”

Jess lets out a long sigh, Anne knowing that she was rolling her eyes. “I’m not saying you have to, I’m saying you should.”

“Ok, I don’t want to date anyone.”

“Oh, come on Anne,” Jess says, getting up and plopping herself on the desk in front of Anne, fiddling with the wire connecting the mouse to the rest of the computer. “You work in a maternity ward where people become parents every day, and you haven’t even thought of finding a man?”

“You don’t have a point,” Anne tells her, not making eye contact with her.

“My point,” Jess says, leaning over to block Anne’s view of her computer screen, “is that you can’t be single forever.”

“Says who?”

“Didn’t you tell me that you were named after the patron saint of the town your grandmothers were from?”

Anne rolls her eyes, knowing where this was going. It was going in the same direction that this conversation always went in when she had it with her mom every single holiday. “All four of us are named after the patron saints of the towns our grandparents are from.”

“St. Anne is the patron saint of child care, grandparents and mothers.”

“She’s also that patron saint of unmarried women, so your argument is invalid, as usual.”

Jess takes in a breath to say something, cut off by Jackson calling for Jess to go into one of the delivery rooms. “Just don’t say no because you think you have to be single,” she advises as she walks away.

Anne leans back in the chair, rubbing her hands over her face. “This is how Christmas is going to go, isn’t it?” she asks herself.

=============

December 25, 2021

The number of cars lining her parent's driveway meant that she was one of the last ones there, but knowing her aunts and uncles, she wasn’t the last one there. Her parents were the ones who did Christmas Day for her dad’s family, Christmas Eve being the anniversary of her mom’s mom’s death, and, on top of that, Teresa doesn’t talk to her family over some argument and grudge being held over their parent's house.

Scanning the cars, she didn’t see the one belonging to her brother Matthew, or his wife, Stephanie. “I’ll just leave Harper’s gifts in the car,” Anne mutters to herself, trying to juggle as many gifts as she could while also balancing the box of pastries her mom asked her to pick up for dessert.

Without a free hand to open the door, Anne did everything she could to ring the doorbell with her elbow, praying that someone would come to open the door before she dropped anything.

Her younger brother, Sebastian, opens the door, a disappointed look on his face. “What the fuck is all this for?” he asks, taking some of the bags from her arms to lighten her load.

“Merry Christmas to you, too,” she remarks, “Yours is still in my car if you’re wondering.”

“Did you have to get gifts for everyone?” he asks, Anne greeting her aunts and uncles on the way to the tree to put everything down for later.

“Well, it’s Hazel’s first Christmas," she explains, referencing their sister's youngest daughter, "So getting her something and not getting the other children something seemed wrong, and then Jessica took me shopping and kept saying things like ‘oh this would be perfect for Lucy,’ or ‘oh don’t have you an aunt who likes mystery novels?’ And everything went downhill from there.”

Sebby groans, walking with Anne back out to her car to retrieve the rest of the gifts, Anne still holding the box of pastries since they hadn’t made it to the kitchen yet. “Please tell me you didn’t get Aunt Lisa that Agatha Christie illustrated novel that the bookstore was selling.”

“Please tell me you didn’t get Aunt Lisa that Agatha Christie illustrated novel the bookstore was selling,” Anne laughs, Sebby nodding his head. “I got a gift receipt.”

“What did you end up getting Matthew?” he asks her. Anne had texted Sebby in panic on Black Friday, coming home from a day of shopping with Lucy that left her without a gift for Lucy’s twin brother.

Grabbing the rest of the gifts and handing them to Sebby, she closes the door to her car and starts to go back inside. “I found this ‘make your own wine’ kit that I think he would like. That way Steph doesn’t have to listen to him complaining about how the stuff she drinks is ‘too sweet.’”

“What about for me?” Sebby asks, nudging Anne with his elbow as they arrange the rest of the gifts in the already mountainous pile under the tree.

“Oh, I knew there was someone I forgot,” she says sarcastically, Sebby ripping the bow off one of her carefully wrapped presents and throwing it at her. “Ok, now I’m never getting you a gift again.”

Sebby laughs, helping his older sister off the ground. The two of them wander into the kitchen, slipping in unnoticed due to the sheer number of family members and noise that was filling the room. “Aunt Anne! Aunt Anne!” Harper and Skylar squeal in unison when her nieces spot her, hoping that either she or Sebby had grabbed Harper, Matthew, and Stephanie’s gifts. She didn’t think there was anything left in her trunk.

“Hey there, fireflies,” Anne greets them, bending down as they both kiss her on the cheek. “Guess what? Santa stopped by my place and left some gifts for you, but he made me promise that you two were really good today if you want to open them after dessert, ok?”

The two girls nod excitedly, bouncing up and down at Anne’s words. To still be young and believe in Santa, that must be nice.

“Hey, ma,” Anne finally finds her mother, putting down the box of pastries in front of her and kissing her on the cheek. “Upstairs or downstairs fridge?”

“It goes downstairs. Come on, I have someone I want you to meet,” her mother says, dragging you away from your aunts that had aggregated around her. They all had excited looks on their faces, something that instantly worried Anne as she followed her mother down the stairs with the box. She could hear Matthew and Lucy’s voices, knowing that her brother and sister’s wife and husband had to be down there with them, too. “Matthew told me about this friend of his who couldn’t make it home for Christmas,” her mother whispers before she got to the last step.

“Mom, no,” Anne says, already knowing where this was heading. “I told you: I don’t need a boyfriend.”

“But I don’t have a grandson,” her mom whines, shaking Anne’s hand in her own against her chest.

“How is that my fault?”

“If you just find a nice boy, and get married, I just know you’re going to be my child that has a boy.”

“Oh my god,” Anne groans, pushing past her to get to the fridge.

Teresa pulls Anne over to the couches where her siblings were, Lucy sitting on one with her feet in Jason’s lap, Jason’s hand lazily rubbing his wife’s shins. Matthew was on the other, Stephanie nuzzled against his shoulder, all four of them with a glass of wine and three bottles open. Next to Matthew was a guy sitting there awkwardly, straightening his back when he saw you while Sebby tried to contain his laughter as he sat on the floor. “Jeremy, this is my youngest daughter, Anne. Anne, this is Jeremy,” she introduces the two of them before running up the stairs.

“I do have a girlfriend, actually,” Jeremy says, “So I’m sorry.”

Anne and her siblings burst out laughing, Lucy pouring her sister a glass of wine. “If only this were the first time Ma tried to set Anne up with a guy who was seeing someone.”

“I even tried to tell her that but she didn’t listen,” Matthew adds. “It’s better than when she tried to set you up with Adam,” he says, referencing Lucy’s partner at their optometry practice.

“Yeah, his husband wasn’t too thrilled by that potential match,” Sebby says.

They all keep talking, Anne just sitting and listening to them reminisce about all the people their parents had tried to set her up within their desperate attempt for her to no longer be single. It didn’t help that the last time she listened to them about dating was Andy, the boy who cheated on her when they got to college. Apparently going to school half an hour from each other wasn’t enough for him to keep up their two-year relationship instead of shoving his tongue down multiple girls throats before doing god only knows what else.

“When do you think they’ll stop trying to set me up with someone?” Anne finally pips in, accidentally cutting off something Jeremy was saying as she stared at the wine she was swirling in the glass.

“When you get a boyfriend,” her siblings say in unison.

“I hate all of you for doing that,” she laughs. “But, seriously, why is it so important that I have a boyfriend?”

“Oh, you know your mother,” Jason says, putting his glass down on the floor. “She saw what Lucy and I had and then wanted that for all her children.”

Lucy playfully shoves him, kissing him as Anne and Sebby groan. “She just wants you to be happy, and to her and dad, happiness is marriage and a family.”

“Where am I going to meet someone if I go to work or here where they try to bring in non-single non-potential suitors?” she asks, looking over at Jeremy. “Sorry.”

He shrugs, not able to get a word in before Matthew starts, “What if you met someone at work like how Steph and I met?”

“Yeah because there are so many single men walking around the maternity ward,” she says, her phone buzzing in front of her. “What about you, though, Seb, how’s Collins?” Anne asks, changing the subject.

“Eh,” he shrugs, his eyes wandering to Anne’s phone screen, “I’m not sure we’re going to last to graduation.”

“What?” Lucy squeals, causing Jason to jump as she threw her legs out of his lap. “I thought you said she was ‘the one’?”

Sebby looks down at his glass, a stupid smirk on his face. “Nah, that changed. She doesn’t want me to go to law school in Boston, she wants me to stay here or move to California with her.”

“But the adventure of moving with your girlfriend to another state!” Matthew offers, Stephanie rolling her eyes.

“Matthew, not everyone needs adventure like you do, hon.”

Anne’s phone buzzes again, a reminder that she had a text waiting for her. Picking it up before Sebby can see who it is, ever the nosy little brother, she sees a message from Tyson popping up as they continue their conversation about Sebby’s love life and Anne’s lack thereof. . They had only been texting for a few days since their encounter at the hospital, but every time his name came up she couldn’t help but smile, lifting the wine glass to her lips to cover it in hopes of her siblings not noticing.

How’s your Christmas been so far?

A simple ‘eh’ as a response was all that she needed to send. It could be worse, but her mom trying to set her up with a guy with a girlfriend was definitely not something that made for a good Christmas. The only thing that could be worse is if their dad came home early from the flight he was on with a guy he picked up in whatever country he had to go to that prompted him to miss the holiday. Normal dads who had to travel would bring their kids back little trinkets or a postcard, but Anne wouldn’t put it past Tony to borderline kidnap someone from the plane he was flying and bring them home for Anne.

Tyson’s contact comes up again, an incoming call that prompted Anne to step away so she could answer it. “What’s up?”

“You said your Christmas was ‘eh.’ What’s going on?”

“It’s a long story,” she groans, pressing her back up against the fridge.

“Well, what if I have something that might make it better?” he flirts.

“Oh? Like what”

“What if I said I’m 100% free to buy you that coffee any time tomorrow, since I know you said you didn’t have work, and you can tell me about Christmas then?”

Anne hears her siblings laugh not ten feet away, praying that they couldn’t hear her conversation. Taking in a deep breath, she knew that her cheeks were turning pink at his words. “Sure, that sounds good. I’ll see you tomorrow?” she asks, walking back over to join her siblings.

“I’ll text you details,” he tells her, hanging up.

“Oh, my god,” Lucy yells, interrupting their conversation. “Anne was talking to a boy.”

“What the hell? What makes you think that?” she asks.

“Your cheeks are red," Lucy says, prompting Anne to raise her hand to feel the heat radiating from her face, "Who else would you be seeing tomorrow?” her sister eggs on, her eyebrow raised since she knew she was right.

Anne tries to find her words, unable to think of a name that wasn’t a guy's name to blurt out.

“Is it Tyson?” Sebby asks, Anne’s unlocked phone in his hand.

“You jackass!” she yells, lunging at her brother to try to get her phone back.

Teresa’s footsteps sound down the stairs, her poking her head between the gap in the stair rail and the steps themselves, Anne and Sebby looking like a deer in headlights when they see their mom. “I was coming to say that dinner was ready, but what’s going on here?”

“Anne has a boy she wasn’t telling us about,” Sebby blabs, earning an ‘I’ll kill you’ look from Anne.

“Oh! Annie!” their mom squeals, running down the stairs to pick her up off the ground and hug her. “Why didn’t you tell us about him?”

“I, uh,” Anne starts, still not sure what to say.

“You have to bring him to New Year’s Day at Uncle Vince’s house,” she tells her, the rest of the siblings following Anne being dragged back up the stairs for dinner, her mom announcing that Anne had a boyfriend when she, in fact, didn’t.

=============

December 26, 2021

“So, are you going to tell me why your Christmas was only ‘eh,’ or am I going to have to guess?” Tyson asks, setting down two cups of coffee in front of them. Tyson had asked Anne to meet him at a small coffee shop that was within walking distance of her apartment, thankful that she didn’t have to drive through Denver on the day where everyone was returning anything unwanted, like her Aunt Lisa returning one of the copies of the Agatha Christie novel that her and Sebby each got her.

Anne groans, the images of last night’s dinner flashing through her mind. “Can we talk about something else, first?”

“Fine,” Tyson says, taking a long sip of the coffee, “What did you get for gifts?”

She raises her eyebrow at him, Tyson mirroring her expression except with a goofy grin on his face. Rolling her eyes, she starts listing off the stuff she got: “My parents got me a new attachment for my KitchenAid stand mixer since my younger brother, Sebby, broke it last time he was over and a voucher for a flight anywhere in the country like they do every year, um, some gift cards from my aunts and uncles, my nieces all did their best attempts at drawing a portrait of me, Sebby told me he was going to come over and make dinner for me, which scares me because he can’t cook, Matthew and his wife got me some books they thought I would like, and Lucy and her husband got me this bracelet,” Anne tells him, extending her arm out to show him.

“I have so many questions,” Tyson starts.

“I might have answers,” Anne tells him, raising her cup to him.

“How big is your family?”

“I’m the third of four, Lucy and Matthew are twins and are about five years older than me, then Sebby is a year younger than me. Lucy has two daughters and Matthew has one. My dad has two brothers; one older, one younger. The older one has three kids, the younger has two and then three grandchildren.”

“Mom’s family?”

Anne looks down at her coffee. “I’m the only one who talks to anyone on that side of the family. My mom and her brother got into a fight when their parents died over what was left to them. My uncle has two daughters and two granddaughters.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, looking between the coffee and Anne.

She shrugs, not really bothered by it at this point. “It’s whatever. I talk to them because I want to, so it’s fine. What other questions do you have, though?”

“The ticket voucher?”

“Yeah,” Anne laughs, “Our dad is a pilot with Southwest Airlines, so every Christmas they give us a voucher to fly anywhere we want. They say they want to make sure that we take time for ourselves, but I think Dad gets some sort of bonus for every voucher he buys.”

Tyson throws his head back laughing. It wasn’t that funny, but seeing him so happy, Anne couldn’t help but smile back at him. “What about you, what did you get for Christmas?”

“My mom and sister flew down and basically restocked my kitchen for me.”

“Ok, that’s a great present, though,” she says. “Where was your dad?”

The smile from Tyson’s face fades, not looking up at Anne. “I never knew him. My mom and grandmother raised me.”

“Oh, Tyson,” she says, reaching out for his hand. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.”

He shrugs, a forced smile on his face. “I wouldn’t trade it for anything, I don’t think. My mom and my grandmother are the reason I am who I am. I wouldn’t give that up or change it.”

The two of them sit there, Anne trying to think about how many times she helped deliver a baby when the father was nowhere to be found. She normally figured they were busy or just not in the delivery room, not being there all together was something she couldn’t even begin to imagine. “But enough about me. Why was your Christmas ‘eh’?”

“My family has it in their heads that I need a boyfriend,” she admits, Tyson smirking at her words. “And my brother saw your texts coming up on my phone and being the asshole that he is, announced that I was texting a boy, so now, I need to find someone to bring with me to my uncle’s house on New Year’s Day that I can pass off as you.”

Tyson gives her a confused look. “Why wouldn’t you just bring me?”

Anne sits there, a shocked look on her face. “Because they think ‘Tyson’ is my boyfriend, and you aren’t?”

“So we pretend. They don’t need to know,” he shrugs, acting like it was no big deal.

“That would never work,” Anne dismisses him.

“Why not? You don’t think I’m a good actor?” Tyson whines, acting insulted at Anne’s words.

She scoffs, “Ok, one, hockey players are never good actors, and two, Sebby or Lucy are bound to figure out that you are not my boyfriend. Sebby wants to be a lawyer so he analyzes everything and Lucy is just this perfect anomaly of a human who would be bound to figure it out.”

“I think I can play your boyfriend for New Year’s Day,” he says, confidence dripping in his voice.

“No, I can’t have you do that.”

The maternity ward where Anne worked never ceased to be hectic, the miracle of life happening at least once an hour. No matter how much Anne had studied in nursing school, nothing could have prepared her for the stress that could come from thhe job, the long hours, the potential for something so right to turn so wrong in a minute, the way nothing can go planned since the baby dictated all, the mess that comes with every birth, or the joy that results from a former patient sending her the occasional picture of a baby she helped deliver as they’re growing up.

[toshis-puppycat]

Hello Again Part Six

A/n: So I was gone for a very long time but, hello!! Im very sorry I just wasnt in the right headspace to be writing/posting anything dealing with my actual writing. I'm actually looking for a job now (if anyone has tips pls I will love you forever). But heres Part six of Hello Again.

Summary: All Might wants to talk, too bad youre not gonna be available for quite some time. Eri is just a baby and Overhaul is a moron. What a way to deal with being kidnapped.

Word Count: 5,435 (jesus christ)

It was admittedly difficult for Toshinori to not talk to you. He tried so often to initiate anything with you. He missed you. But he couldn't find any way to talk to you. You were avoiding him. Skillfully avoiding him. And he didn't want to force you to talk! He just… he wanted you to look at him. He wanted you to stop avoiding him. He… he needed to tell you. When young Midoryia was talking to him it was a good time to be able to stop you. To talk. But he remembered the last time he tried stopping you. He remembered how your voice cracked, remembered how you tried so hard not to let him see your face (and succeeded with it). He agreed to help young Midoryia in some way to get to Sir Nighteye. So he called Togata. And he didn't know it, but Togata agreed to take you to Nighteye a while ago already. But well… he wouldn't be able to talk to you anytime soon.

☆☆☆☆☆

It took a while to get to Nighteyes office. About an hour away from UA, they were standing outside.

"Well this is it, Sir Nighteyes agency." Midoryia grunted in shock, honestly a true fan boy. "Easy man. Take a breath. Try to loosen up! But not too loose, ya know. 'Cause uh, Sir's actually a pretty strict guy." Togata said.

"I'm fully aware! He's a hero famous for being demanding, on others as well as himself. His gaze is so harsh that it makes me shiver every time I see him on TV. He looks so severe!" Midoryia exclaimed. You were content with just listening to the two students. But still taking in the information. It was good to know something about the person Aizawa said to talk to. And well, Midoryia was knowledgeable about all heros.

"Y'gotta make him laugh. Then he'll totally approve of you." You heard Togata say as Midoryia stood there in shock. You filed that fact away. You'll figure something out. You entered the building with them. Walking up the stairs behind the two. You were just content letting them talk, and well kind of avoiding talking with Midoryia too. Your thoughts towards him were still positive but you didn't want to blurt out anything to him or ask him if he was Toshinoris kid. That'd be embarrassing for you both. Midoryia looked determined. He was more than ready to do internships. You all walked in, watching a woman be tickled by a machine, laughing and crying. All you could think was how weird that was. But shrugged it off. He liked… jokes? Right? So this must involve that in some way. Poor Midoriya was confused beyond belief seeing this happen though. But you could tell he was about to try and make him laugh. He looked up, giving the same smile as All Might himself. It was too similar and honestly solidified your belief that he was his secret child.

"I'm Izuku Midoryia." He said. He even sounded like him. Are you kidding? Yeah, they were definitely related.

"What is this, boy? Are you ridiculing All Might?" Nighteye asked. He wasn't furious… but he definitely wasn't laughing either. You could tell Togata was internally panicking. But you were going to be confident for Midoryia. You love Toshinori. And since he moved on… you'll support his son and love him from afar. Your heart felt a little heavy and to be completely honest you wanted to cry a little, but holding it in would be more beneficial right now. You watched the scene calmly, watching how Nighteye looked at you with little regard but giving you a nod to tell you he noticed you, you'd probably talk after Midoryia did. "What are you doing with your face? Is this a joke to you?" Nighteye asked and internally you were wishing it was.

"Uh. No, I guess not?"

"You attempted this blasphemous excuse of an impression on All Mights former sidekick?" He reached for Midoryias face, and you almost did a double take. His former what? "All Mights wrinkles aren't like this at all. You fool." You blanked out a little. No one told you this man was Toshinoris former sidekick! You blocked out some of the conversation at that revelation. He might know about you, but he didn't know what you looked like. Overall internally you were wondering what the hell was going to happen, externally you were looking at his office. His office that was completely covered in merch for All Might. You could tell Midoryia was even envious about the room. Was… was this man… a fanboy? Yeah. Yeah he was. The proof of it was all over his office. "I don't care for this one bit. You can see yourself out." You narrowed your eyes at the man. Honestly you hated people who acted like him.

"The vinegar river incident. Are you not aware of it, sir?" Midoryia asked. You glanced over. Was he just not going to register how Nighteye was an ass already or? Was he just challenging him on his knowledge? You held back on reacting fully because to be honest. How on earth were you supposed to react to this? Nighteye was still glaring at him. He knew the rescue, even if it did take place before he was his sidekick. Midoryia responded excitedly when he said that it was briefly mentioned in a show that he watched. "Honestly, I think it was the best part of the whole thing is the witty response he gave after being thanked by the kid he rescued!" You were standing awkwardly by Togata as Nighteye said the response, Midoryia was still smiling. "That's it! It was the perfect one-liner!"

"Now I see. You were just testing me." Nighteye said angrily. You narrowed your eyes at the man. What the hell was his deal. He was the adult in this situation. He should act like it. You thought angrily as Midoryia exclaimed that he wasn't testing Nighteye at all. They talked about the incident a little longer, as Togata released the woman that was bound earlier. Poor woman, she looked exhausted from the impromptu laughing earlier. Eventually they began talking about the work study itself. Midoryia looked so excited. "Once I stamp this document, you'll officially be contracted with my agency for a work study." He said, Midoryia only responded with a 'yes, sir!' "You have to understand that this will be nothing like the week-long internships that you students take on so casually." He continued. Were some students attacked during their week-long internships? Was he just going to disregard that? "You must work here for a minimum of four months and will be paid wages. However, your academic responsibilities will likely suffer fur to absences you'll rack up. Which means your classmates will pull ahead of you." Midoriya said he understood fully, but he wanted to do this. It's the Plus Ultra attitude. Nighteye raised the stamp, then hit the desk with it. Immediately telling Midoriya he wasn't going to be approving of it. Asking what he would bring to benefit his agency. "How can you contribute to society? How can you be useful to others? In order to be acknowledged, you must be able to answer those questions unequivocally." You thought you saw the boy flinch a little at that and as Nighteye continued his speech you noticed little things. You didn't interact with Midoryia often. But you'd listened when Aizawa told you about the class before you actually met them. There were little things. How he struggled when he got his power, how he was anxious, overly apologetic. And this flinch after Nighteye asked what he could do to be useful. You had to talk to Aizawa about this. "I'm still giving you a chance. The three of you, go wait outside." You nodded at him, already walking to the door. You all walked out afterwards. Listening as the woman asked Togata about his own interview. You learned Nighteye requested him specifically, but took a breath.

"So, I never managed to get your name." You said to the woman, they both stopped and she looked at you in shock, then blushed.

"Oh! I'm Bubble Girl! It's nice to meet you…" She said waiting for you to respond.

"Siren." You smiled back. She was alright. Togata smiled at you both.

"This is gonna be great!"

☆☆☆☆☆

You made your way back to the room. You heard Midoryia hitting the walls repeatedly. Nighteye was fully testing him and Midoryia himself was not going to back down. But you heard the smallest tidbit. Unworthy. Who the hell did he think he was. You didn't register much of the conversation of Nighteye telling Midoriya he was accepted. You felt so angry. You registered him essentially telling Midoryia that he was a dim light. "You are not worthy of his power." Bull fucking shit. Midoryia was determined.

"Please do recall I must speak with you as well Nighteye." You said. Everyone remembered you were there in that moment as Nighteye nodded, and he gestured for Midoryia and Togata to leave. "Can Bubble Girl escort them to the train? I'd rather they not be alone for too long. And I feel we have a lot to talk about, Nighteye." You said, he gave the okay and they left the room. "I do hope you understand that the conversation you had with Young Midoryia was completely unacceptable from a hero." You said, fury seeping through your tone. He was unworthy of having Toshinori on his side? That he was unworthy of being a hero, having to piggyback off of All Might. It made you see red. How dare he? Midoryia is selfless, kind, courageous. Everything that Toshinori is. And more so. He's a child. Putting him on a high pedestal would hurt him.

"I understand that you have a certain thought for him young lady, but he certainly isn't worthy of any of it." His tone was condescending, it irritated you. Reminded you of how Endeavor tried lecturing you about his children that he abused, that he was making them better. Like they weren't already going to be amazing. Or your father telling you that you'd never amount to anything because you were a weak and unworthy quirk having bastard child.

"I fear we haven't been properly introduced Sir Nighteye. I'm pro-hero Siren. The water hero who disappeared 20 some years ago. You ground out. Watching his face barely have a flicker of surprise. Before going back to a neutral state.

"You shouldn't stick your head into matters that do not concern you." He simply said, the look in his eyes full of disgust towards you. Like you told a child that he was nothing.

"My apologies Sir Nighteye." He looked pleased. "But it seems like being a hero involves sticking your head into matters like this." You said, eyes narrowed as he looked at you shocked. "You're a teacher towards Young Togata, yes? So I believe you'll understand when I say, yes Midoryia has chosen to work under you for the work study. But I promise you. If I ever hear you say anything like that to him again. I'll make sure no student ever comes here again." You didn't give him a chance to respond. Furiously walking out the door, you were still fuming. Midoryia didn't even flinch at the treatment Nighteye gave him. Just smiled brightly, and thanked him for the opportunity after all was said and done. Like he was used to people hating him. Used to people telling him he couldn't be anything. Used to people telling him he was worthless. And that wasn't good, you'd have to talk to Aizawa about this. You didn't know anything concerning his life before UA. But, at this point Aizawa did. You were outside of the building in no time. Glad you'd sent the students off earlier, asking Bubble Girl so you could discuss things with Nighteye. A few seconds later you heard a crash come from an alley and a small girl ran out, quickly crashing into your legs. Her arms and legs were wrapped up in gauze, looking terrified. You let go of any anger you had felt, you couldn't let this little girl see that. "Hello, sweetheart are you alright?" You said it quietly, crouching down. Her terrified gaze snapped to you and it seemed like it was even worse for her. Tears streaming down her face as she looked at you.

"I'm sorry..." she whispered, closing her eyes. Sorry? Why was she sorry? And then the world went dark.

☆☆☆☆☆

He looked at you with cool yellow eyes as you slumped forward. Eri darted out of the way and into his legs as Chronostasis grabbed and began carrying you. He'd knocked you out and used his quirk on you. You were going to be unresponsive for a while. His gaze shifted back to Eri and her tear filled eyes.

"You did well, Eri." Was all he said. Her gaze went to your prone body in Chronostasis arms. Eri looked up at him sadly, fear in her eyes. But that didn't matter, to be able to get rid of the infection that runs rampant in their society. He's perfectly fine making her miserable. "She'll be a nice addition. Taking care of what's mine."

☆☆☆☆☆

Izuku notices things. He had to, all those years analyzing hero fights came with having to notice things that seemed to be unimportant. It only spaned to the rest of his life. Before the year started, he noticed when All Might would have a far away look in his eyes and it seemed like he remembered something or someone. He doesn't know what or who yet, but it makes him sad. Thats why he asked All Might about love. The way they continued training after that, how he looked so hurt. He almost missed it when he saw All Might after his technical final battle, crying as he was told that he was devoting himself to his training. He remembered sobbing and clutching at his clothing, almost missing that look he had again. That he was thinking of that person (he thinks that All Might is thinking about someone instead of something at least). And all he understood from that look was that he was saying he needed to stay longer. When they began living on campus, it was so much better, brighter. They saved Kachaan, they were going to get their hero licenses! And then they met you. You were... young. Too young to be teaching. But you introduced yourself. Y/n l/n. Extra precaution from Principle Nezu, having another teacher in the classroom for the heroics department. You already met their parents. You were interesting, it was even more interesting seeing you latch on to All Might when they made it to Gym Gamma. But it made everything weird when you abruptly stopped trying to latch onto his mentor. He would see you smile and train, (the water quirk you had would be cool to see on the field!!) but it wasn't reaching your eyes. Whenever you thought no one was paying attention, (which would be relatively true) your face would fall and you'd look anguished until someone called your name. To which you would smile, and any trace of your previous sadness was wiped away. It was concerning, were you... depressed? Did you need help? It felt like you needed help. Then you'd went with Todoroki to see his family, and when he came back well...

"Midoriya she made my father eat the floorboards, I think I'm in love." Todoroki said, he looked startled as he said it and it made him sputter out some response of what. Then he told him about how you had dinner with his father, sister and brother, and then absolutely destroyed Endeavor in a little 'friendly' fight, where you literally used his own body against him. Honestly an amazing idea with your quirk! He completely forgot that the body itself was about 70% water, of course you could use blood! He added you to his Notebook. You were really cool. And he couldn't wait to see more of your quirk. A while later, when Izuku decided to go to Sir Nighteye for his work studies and was told he wasn't worthy of being All Might successor he was hurt yes, but he was more so confused. You'd seemed... furious when he'd last seen you at Nighteyes agency. But you still looked at them with kind eyes and a gentle smile, sending them off and saying you needed to speak with Nighteye. Asking Bubble Girl to please make sure they stayed safe since you needed to talk to him. He wasn't used to that. The whole being kind towards him if you were furious about something. Besides he'd always felt just happiness oozing from you. Wait that was kind of wrong too. You also had a slight melancholy feel. You tried hiding it but well, Izuku was very good at reading people. He had to be. When Kachaan used to bully be rude to him, he had to be able to read him! But it was like you wanted to hide it? From them? From everyone? No one else seemed to notice it. Or maybe they did but didn't want to interfere? He pushed that thought away. He was going to help you. It looked like you needed saving from whatever it was you were feeling. He was going to help you. You needed help too and he would never ignore someone who needs help. Then they got the news. You were missing. And Izuku thought he saw All Mights world fall apart the moment the news was given. He figured that his mentor had needed to talk to you, especially since after you stopped latching you also started avoiding All Might. What were they going to do? Where were you?

☆☆☆☆☆

When you woke up you were in a bedroom, soft silky sheets, a comfy mattress. It almost lulled you back into sleep. But then you remembered. A little girl with white hair and red eyes running into you and apologizing immediately. Then nothing. You were knocked out for God knows how long. Was that little girl okay? You felt sluggish still too, was it a quirk? Or was it just the aftereffects of being hit on the head? This was going to waste time! You had a little girl to find!

"Its good to see you awake." A voice called out. From the corner of the room. You stilled. "I almost believed that Chronostasis went overboard." He continued. "Your power, it involves healing, does it not?" He asked. You registered things more clearly in that moment. He… kidnapped you? Why? Or well you assumed that it was because he thought you were only a healer.

"Yes."

"I want you to heal my property." Was all he said, his unnerving stare was making all the hair on your body stand. "You have quite the collection of scars." You almost gasped. But you'd already noticed how you were in comfortable clothing. Of course this dickwad saw your scars. You weren't in your hero outfit anymore. You turned to face him.

"Your property. Its that little girl, isn't it?" You asked calmly, he nodded at your question. You had to stay calm, if you didn't it could risk that little girl.

"She is." Was all he said. "Your quirk is perfect for healing my property."

☆☆☆☆☆

He left the room. You were quite pretty. Scared, but still somehow clean. He thought. Yes your quirk still made you filthy. But you could keep things sanitary with it. It made you better. He could allow you to fully look over Eri as well. It was useful having her fully healed. Tomorrow he'd be able to do more. He allowed Eri to stay with you, you provided something helpful. Eri would be more controlled because of you. Besides, you were a hero with a weak quirk. It was just healing with water. Useful in only one way. Besides, you would never be able to do anything against him.

☆☆☆☆☆

The next few days were annoying. You didn't sleep much after he allowed that little girl into your room to be healed. You convinced him it would be best to have her stay with you for a day or two. It'd be easier for healing. In reality you learned all you could from her. She cried. She cried so much. Apologizing profusely, at how you were there and how she helped you get captured. You did your best to calm her into a fretful sleep, holding her close and playing with her hair to calm her. She was just a little girl and already she was dealing with so much. You thought. But now. You had a chance. You could think of things quickly to attempt to get the girl out, then worry about yourself later. You told her the plan quickly after learning about her schedule when she woke up. It would take another day or two to actually put the plan in motion but you could get her out. First distract her babysitter. (Or well now your babysitter.) It was easy. Then you would pretend to be distracted, watching from the corner of your eye, and slightly pushing Eri to go further away with your water. She had to get away. It was unfortunate for you both when Overhaul walked by, and noticed Eri wasn't with you. He looked furious. Reaching for you, as you pretend to be terrified. He forced a mask onto you. You were a hero. You had to keep him distracted for a little while longer. But it was for nothing. Overhaul quickly figured out the only path she could've taken. And he dragged you along to catch her.

"You should be more careful." He said. You caught up to her. Was your only thought, Overhaul still had your hand, he was gripping it tightly as a threat. You looked up and hid your surprise seeing Midoryia and Togata in their hero costumes, they did the same thankfully. "We don't wanna cause trouble for the heros." He continued, looking down cooly at Midoryia (or did you have to call him Deku right now?) The look that he gave him told you he knew about Overhaul now. Eri looked terrified seeing you. Overhaul himself wasn't paying attention to you right now. You gave her a nod. It's okay Eri, please don't let go of him. She was clutching Dekus clothing tightly. "I hope you forgive our daughter, hero. We don't know what to do with her." He said, giving a smile behind the mask. "Always playing rough, bumping into things." Togata pulled Dekus mask up, joking about how it fell constantly. You wanted to beg them. Take her. Run away. I can keep him away long enough. "Please don't mind the mask. It keeps out the filth." He said closing his eyes. "I don't believe I've seen you two in the area before."

Togata played it off as them still being pretty new. He was hiding that they were working with Nighteye too. Please Togata. Get her out of here! Eris hands were white with tight how she was gripping him. You knew he'd run with her. And he was quick. Please Deku. Take her. Overhaul narrowed his eyes at the scene.

"Um, excuse me. I'm sorry but your daughter seems scared." Deku said.

"A reaction to being scolded." He said, eyes narrowing further. You could tell. He wanted to run with her. Please I can hold him off Deku, take her and run.

"She's got bandages all over. Those are just from "playing rough"?" He asked. Eris shoulders were shaking. Please.

"Eri is an exceptionally clumsy girl." Overhaul responded. You had to distract them.

"Darling, she's just a little excited. Being out and about, getting fresh air. It's always exciting to be a child you know." You plastered on a smile you knew they couldn't see. The realization of what was going to happen hit you. They weren't going to run. So you had to play a part now. Overhaul relaxed a little at your statement. Assuming so much from you being like this. You knelt down to Eri. "Its alright Eri, I'm sorry we scared you." You said, your eyes were telling Midoryia it was okay. And telling Eri it would be okay. You could handle what he'd throw at you. You'd take whatever punishment he'd throw at you. It'd be okay. No it won't. Eri ran to your arms, letting go of Deku and shaking like a leaf. Overhaul relaxed fully. You picked her up, still smiling and looked at Overhaul. "We should head back home, Eri was even too excited to put on shoes!" Play your part right now.

"Yes we should." He said, turning back to the ally. Midoryia and Togata were looking at you, walking away with a criminal. This was technically safer. Especially since he was well known, but Eri… how much more would she suffer because you couldn't help her better.

"I'm sorry, I should've been paying better attention to Eri." You said, walking slightly behind.

"You're still new to this. So I won't fault you completely." He said. You made your way back inside. You should've done more. To him you were fine carrying Eri, still following behind. As he talked about how disgusting quirks were, it made you feel like you were with your father.

"Krono, prepare the bath."

"Yes, sir."

Someone began profusely apologizing to him, you recognized him as the one who was babysitting you and Eri. Overhaul reached out for him, and blood splattered onto the wall. It made you freeze a little. This was his quirk. Eri flinched in your arms and you held her closer as she cried softly. It made your heart ache. This was becoming a little too relatable. You knew his quirk now. But you needed to play the part of a scared healer. They brought you back to the room you woke up in, and then they left, dragging Eri with them. You wanted to beg to go with them. And you almost did, but the look Eri was giving was telling you it was okay. Even if she was shaking. "I'll be here Eri, it's okay." You told her, she didn't look calmed by it. And to be fair, you wouldn't have felt calm about it either. Overhaul looked at you, and they walked away. And when she was brought back she was predictably shaking even more. They stopped you from healing her, stating that "it wasn't necessary. She wasn't hurt." Then they left after locking you into the room. You cleaned her off of the days grime gently. She sobbed in your arms so quietly.

"I'm sorry…" She said quietly and you held her close, whispering soft reassurance that it was alright.

"Its okay Eri. We ran into people I know. Well get out of here." You said, sitting on the bed with her in your lap. You held her close and laid down, your back was facing the door. You'd be hit first if anything happened. She was still sobbing. You kept reassuring her. "Eri, do you want to hear a song?" You asked. Her sobs slowed a bit, she was taking deep breaths, and nodded. "Sometimes when I feel like this I sing something from one of my favorite films." You whispered, looking at her and wiping the tears from her cheeks.

"I have often dreamed of a far off place Where a hero's welcome would be waiting for me" Your voice was quiet, gentle.

"Where the crowds would cheer, when they see my face

And a voice keeps saying this is where I'm meant to be

I'll be there someday, I can go the distance

I will find my way if I can be strong

I know every mile would be worth my while

When I go the distance, I'll be right where I belong" You took a breath, looking at Eri, and holding her close.

"Down an unknown road to embrace my fate

Though that road may wander, it will lead me to you

And a thousand years would be worth the wait

It might take a lifetime but somehow I'll see it through

And I won't look back, I can go the distance

And I'll stay on track, no I won't accept defeat

It's an uphill slope

But I won't lose hope, 'till I go the distance

And my journey is complete, oh yeah

But to look beyond the glory is the hardest part

For a hero's strength is measured by his heart, oh

Like a shooting star, I will go the distance

I will search the world, I will face its harms

I don't care how far, I can go the distance

'Till I find my hero's welcome waiting in your arms

I will search the world, I will face its harms

'Till I find my hero's welcome waiting in your arms." You finished the song, Eri was fretful in your arms but more relaxed, asleep. You kissed her forehead, eyes soft. You were going to keep this little girl safe. You were going to do your absolute best to keep her safe and make her happy. And maybe… just maybe, you could help her smile. You'd only seen her look scared. Children should never feel this way. You knew that too well didn't you?

☆☆☆☆☆

The days after were a blur. You could hear some of Overhauls people complaining about the newest additions. They tried being quiet but well, you had to be good at hearing before you were a hero anyways. You could hear them complaining about how much they disrespected the "boss" and tried saying their League didn't need them when they did. And you froze. The League was here? You'd gotten the basic descriptions of all the members. And regrettably didn't mention you had met them before. But it was an accident. Something you'd thought about after learning all that they've done. You didn't regret it per say but… they looked so young when you'd seen them, save 4 members (although you weren't too sure with that fourth one, he had a mask on). The "leader" was furious but he also looked so young. Especially after seeing you were there, all disoriented. He was being held back. And all you could see was they were hurt. One had terrible burn scars, another looked as if he was crushed. Well looked was a strong word. He felt like he was crushed, and knocked out but that small bit didn't matter. The girl looked like she'd hurt her arm somehow. Another was knocked out. The needed help. So you helped, you healed most of them (you couldn't heal the one that felt like he was crushed or the one with the burn scars, the wounds they had were old). When you found out they were classified as villains, you didn't feel bad you'd healed them. You just wanted to help them, even when you found out that they kidnapped Bakugou. Because they looked more like misfits than villains, they looked like people just trying to find their place in the world. Misfits still needed help too, and it was obvious they had a view of the world that was accurate for those with mutant quirks. Harsh, unless you were useful to them. They might not be blatantly harming them, but they were still… well harming them. Using the laws, making it harder for them to live happily. You moved forward, catching a glimpse of one of the League members, the one with the mask. You almost stopped walking when you saw him. Almost. It was good that you didn't. Overhaul walked up behind you, placing a gloved hand on your lower back to push you forward. It made your skin crawl.

"You will not interact with this one. She is none of your business." He said.

"Okay! Why not ya lunatic?" The masked man replied. Overhaul's eyes narrowed.

"She will not interact with you either. Keep your filth away from her." He stated, pulling you to move with him, his gloved hand gripping your wrist tightly. You nodded your head at them, it seemed like they didn't recognize you? Which was good you assumed. But, didn’t Overhaul hate people who have quirks?

☆☆☆☆☆

Taglist: @saratour, @yukiimaniac, @theygottheircages, @itsallmightbitch, @toobsessedsstuff, @quirkyfandoms, @anxious-cat-with-cheesesticks, @devilkou, @waitwhatsrealityagain, @toxicjayhoo

[nightswithkookmin]

Goldy,

Kind of off topic, but a little on topic. Have you seen the band Maneskin from Italy? They won 2021 Eurovision Song Contest. Beautiful, beautiful people.

I have no idea of their sexual orientation or preferences, but they wear a lot of makeup on and off stage , and smooch on each other a lot on stage. Nobody bats an eye. They are a Metal band and they dress accordingly. I wish that everyone around the world was as accepting as all their fans are. They are super androgynous as well and they are SEXY as hell

Their charm and sexuality is so fluid and just so natural. They are who they are and they are beautiful and fun to watch. Their comfort with each other is how I wish ALL of us would be

Rock bands rock period

I wonder what they look like in brand ads. I wonder if they are given or are required to have a much tamer look with little to no rings and funky clothing or hoop earrings you can barely see.

Where are the dangly chrome earrings?! WHERE ARE THEY?!🤺

I like my BTS the way they are. It's what I bought in. I want to see men in corsets, waist snatched, dark eyeliners selling alcohol to men. Is that too much to ask?! Is it?!😒

This is what happens when they treat queerness as aesthetics and have no qualms drawing on- if not appropriate- gay culture and lifestyle. Y'all just ditch it for your hyper heteromasculinity whenever y'all want😒

Their ability to divorce themselves completly from certain looks at certain times is what gives me whiplash. When that happens, it creates the impression queerness is just a look, gender fluidity is not real and establishes traditional definitions of masculinity as the norm. You do not have to 'look like a man' to sell alcohol 🤺

I was literally waiting for this Kloud, Klout beer ad to drop ever since Winter Package at the end of last year because we all know what most people think about Alcohol and men. I was curious to how how BTS would market to men as compared to women and teens. I feel there is so much room for them to break norms and set new trends in the advertising world. I'm disappointed so far.

For contrast, look at how they look selling a nonachoholic beverage as compared to how they look selling alcohol. Can I weep? Can I?! See how they look like they just stepped off a set for a music video? They look like themselves. Their everyday selves but you look on your left and it's like huh??????

And in case the message and intent is not clear, here is a photo of different models modeling for the same brand.

Their girls look like "girls" and their boys look like "boys." I'd say BTS in those ads look much more similar to the male model here in terms of looks- that clear cut box labeled men- which to me is a problem.

I'm sorry but this is just lazy advertisement. Nothing at all ground breaking. The models look great. Taehyung looks tasty, heteromasculine and perfect.

I feel used to male oriented brands breaking boundaries and participating in the gender discourse in recent times I think my expectations for BTS on this topic in advertisement was this high.

If heteromasculinity is all y'all can tap into to sell a can of drink I'm sorry but that's misogynistic and sexist and homophobic.

If Jimin or any of these boys come out a few years down the lane in another documentary to say these kinds of shit affected them in any way I AM STARTING WORLD WAR III.

I'm tired of seeing Jimin and other Asian men be emasculated and treated as if they aren't men enough just because they look to them 'feminine.' You don't have to fix their masculinity or tweak it to suit your idea and ideals of masculinity. There's no one way of being man.

Don't get me started on the desexualization of Asian men and it's subsequent effects on Asian men. You hear Asian men are not sexy, they do not sell the fantasy, they are not this, they are not that blah blah blah and yet we sit here and wonder why someone like JK, who had probably internalized that shit, would say he wants to be seen as sexy too and perform sexy choreos and shit.

And no, it's not an American Asian problem, it's a global Asian problem. BTS are on the world's stage being socialized by the global community and they do face almost every microaggression prevalent within the regional communities. It's the American's take on them, Canada, UK, Africa, Asia, Europe, all of them. Everyone is projecting on to them their ideals and understanding of gender and who they should be. Did we not see BTS BIOT trending from the Philippines lately? Gay because WHY???? They wear make up and earrings and love androgynous?

Naa, I'm actually getting gassed the more I think about it🤺🤺🤺🤺🤺🤺🤺🤺🤺🤺

The notion that Asians aren't sexy sits on the opposite end of 'Asians are too soft and good looking they are not masculine' all on the something is inherently wrong with Asian men spectrum.

I keep saying Jikook are the two members who've faced and have perhaps had to defend their masculinities the most- from BTS themselves effeminating JK and always bringing his masculinity to question- you know they once said JK is the most feminine within the group? I think so too but that's besides the point chilee.

Then for Jimin, he's always been either over feminized or defeminized, masculated and treated as if his femininity is wrong and invalid. Didn't a certain Karmy call him a fake woman or something like that? It's almost the same microaggressions transfems and gay men steroetyped as bottoms recieve on a dialy basis in this shit hole we call planet. It's all so ghetto.

Ass holes like to masculate and invalidate fems and masculine femininity, it's appalling. And people like to gaslight and pretend these microaggressions cannot have Freudian effects on these people- he is too strong to be bullied, oh he worked so hard on himself he can't crack so easily, oh it's nothing they're just being sensitive, it was joke, they're reading too much into it, and my personal favorite- y'all are over analyzing when you point it out😌

Some people are legit serial gaslighters, they will gaslight you before you can say the Jay in Jesus.

As a black woman growing up in a community that view black women as strong and incapable of being mentally attacked and traumatized by certain experiences- black people don't get depression or mental health issues because they are black and they are strong- being masculated and defeminized on a dialy basis, I tell you- shit is torture.

All of this, and we sit here and wonder why Jimin wants to go to the gym and build muscles and blend in with the boys etc. Could be nothing, could be a response to the over feminization of Jimin, the emasculation or it could be he is internalizing some things. We will never know.

Personally, I feel JM is on the precipice of something and may be its something, may be its nothing but imma put my foot on these companies' neck and keep it there 🤓

Because it's not just about Jimin. It's about all the people who look up to him. All the people he has influence over. For every queer child who sees themselves in him and these men.

Any who. I think I've said everything I want to say on this topic. The weight on my chest is lifted. Asian men are sexy, their masculinity is VALID. Queer masculinity is valid too and they need to be inclusive of it. If you don't wanna include it leave BTS as they are. We get the representation as they are. Don't tweak them in y'all's brand campaigns. Don't fix Jimin's Jawline and make it more chiseled. HE IS PERFECT THE WAY HE IS.

Now please, let's talk about BigHit and the recent shipping agendas.😐

Signed,

GOLDY

[bat-losers-inc]

Song of Cassandra: Chapter 2

Warnings: Family Drama, Family Issues, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Emotional Baggage, and Child Neglect

Summary: What is Batman without a Robin? Everyone in the family makes jokes about the ‘dead robins club’, but Dick and Jason really do have measures set in place for the day Bruce loses sight of what’s really important. They won’t let Bruce sacrifice another Robin for the cause, even if that means separating Robin from Batman for good.

Pairings: Barbara Gordon/Dick Grayson, Stephanie Brown/Tim Drake, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Stephanie Brown & Bruce Wayne, and Dick Grayson & Jason Todd

                            _____________________________________

Half a year later saw them performing a feat of brotherly bonding he’d never imagined possible: robbing Penguin together.

They’d left the Tricorner district behind in a streak of burnt rubber and a barrage of gunfire and ditched the getaway van in Chinatown at the first available 24-hour parking facility on the other side of the bridge. It was slower going on foot, but Chinatown’s busy night scene, combined with the heavy triad presence in this district, would make Penguin’s men hesitate before going in guns blazing. That was all the time they needed to slip away unseen.

Now, as they emerged from the darkness of the parking deck, Dick yanked the balaclava off his head. He grunted something unintelligible as he shouldered his way through the cluster of pedestrians that crowded the sidewalk.

“What?” asked Jason, pulling his own half-mask down from around his neck and jogging to catch up.

“I said, you’re a real bastard. You promised me this was would be easy!”

Jason glanced at him. He wanted to be sympathetic but he just couldn’t when Dick was glaring at him with that staticky mop of hair. He couldn’t keep the laughter out of his voice when he replied, “You’re the one who said we shouldn’t leave a paper trail! This is about as easy as stealing from Penguin’s bagman gets.”

In truth, he thought they were complaining just for the sake of complaining. After six months they both knew that pulling off this heist was less a matter of choice and more a matter of necessity. Failure meant returning to the storage locker Dick had procured outside of Port Adams and staring down their measly little bat-trust-fund: six safehouses, fifteen rolls of Kevlar fabric, a small arsenal, twenty-seven contacts typed into a Word document, and $5,025 split five ways. But what use would kevlar suits be if their siblings couldn’t afford to keep a roof over their heads? No, without the cash it was worth fuck-all.

Dick looked like he wanted to argue the point further but at that moment a convoy of police vehicles shot past them, sirens wailing and horns blaring loud enough to deafen a person. No doubt by now Penguin’s men had informed their boss about the botched exchange and pinned the blame on their nearest rivals, the Ghost Dragons. If that was the case, then Chinatown was a powder keg ready to explode into a minor gang war at any moment.

A flash of light reflected off the windows of a nearby apartment building. Jason stepped in between two parked cars to get a better look and found himself staring up at the cloud-heavy night sky illuminated in the glow of the bat signal.

He gripped the heavy duffel bag full of stolen cash closer to his chest like he expected Gotham’s dark knight to swoop down at any moment and tear it from his shoulder.

“Hey,” Dick tugged at his arm. “time to go.”

Batman was on the way and like the best of Gotham’s criminals, Jason and Dick made themselves scarce.

It took nearly forty minutes and three subway lines to make their way back to the self-storage facility. By then a pale glow had crept up from the horizon and spread across the water. Around them, the street lights began to shut off one after another. In the distance, Jason could just make out a tugboat as it pushed a barge out towards the open ocean.

By the time Dick pulled the storage locker door down behind them, they were tired-eyed and footsore.

Jason threw the duffel bag onto a table and propped himself against it as he fished one-handed under his t-shirt to undo the straps of his protective vest. He sighed in relief as the weight lifted off his shoulders. “How the hell did you stand wearing these things when you were on the force? Even with the undershirt, the chaffing is god-awful.”

“You get used to it,” Dick replied, making quick work of removing his own gear.

Jason doubted it but he was too tired to argue his point further. Instead, he found the six-pack that he’d stashed under the table earlier that day and snapped off a can.

“Heads up,” he called, as he pitched a can underhand to Dick who caught it against his chest.

Dick held it up for inspection. “Warm beer. What I’ve always wanted.”

“Oh shut up and celebrate with me, you asshole.”

He extended his arm across the table. Dick knocked beer cans with him and completely failed at hiding the shy grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, though god bless him he tried. “Cheers.”

Jason watched him crack open the top and chuckled as he hurriedly slurped at the foam that erupted over the rim. He knew that this morally gray lifestyle didn’t come easy to Dick but he couldn’t deny that he was happy he had stuck around with him for this long. He didn’t dare to say it out loud, but they actually made good partners.

He took a long drink from his own beer can before putting it aside. “Ok, come on. The faster we count this cash the sooner we can go to bed.”

Jason upturned the duffel bags, sending stacks of cash sliding out onto the metal tabletop while Dick pulled the banknote counter from the corner and lugged the machine up next to the pile. Together they started slipping the currency bands loose and feeding the stacks of cash into the machine, watching eagerly as the sum continued to tick upwards.

“Soo…” Jason drummed his thumbs on the table as the numbers continued to flash on the small screen, “How are things going with you and Babs?”

“What?” Dick’s eyebrows drew together. “Why?”

Jason shrugged. “I don’t know, I’m a little curious about what she thinks you do when you’re out late all the time… also, I’m bored.”

“You’re weird, is what you are.”

Jason rolled his eyes. “Seriously? We’ve only spent the past six months together moonlighting as vigilante survivalists and I can’t ask one time how your love life is going.”

“No, no. Sorry, you’re right.” Dick held up a hand. “I told her I’ve been helping you out with an undercover case for a couple of months now. Said I owed you a favor.”

Jason grinned at him. “Well, that’s not a lie. Quite a few actually, but who’s counting.”

Dick punched him in the shoulder. “Actually, I should call her. Reassure her you didn’t get me killed before she calls in a search party.”

Jason chuckled and went back to the task of feeding bills into the machine as Dick rummaged through the backpack and fished out his phone.

“Hey, uhh...”

Jason glanced up and took in Dick’s furrowed expression as he stared down at his phone. He put down the stack of cash he was holding. “What’s the matter?”

“Something happened while we were out. I — shit I don’t know how to explain it but I’ve got like 15 missed messages from Barbara and Alfred. Did you bring your phone with you?”

Jason grabbed his backpack where his own phone was stashed and opened it to find a similar mass of missed calls and incoherently excited messages cluttering the screen. Some of the numbers he recognized, Steph, Barbara, and Alfred were all saved in his phone, but a few were from unknown senders. If he had to venture some guesses he’d say Cass, Duke… maybe Harper? Fuck, he never realized this many bat brats had his number. “I don’t get it… something about Tim? What about hell?”

“I’m calling Babs.”

Jason was aware of how uncomfortably loud their breathing sounded in the small storage locker as they stood around the table waiting for Dick’s call to connect.

“Dick?” Barbara’s voice asked loudly through the speaker. “Thank God! Where have you been? I’ve been calling and calling you.”

“Sorry, undercover mission, remember? What’s the big emergency? I didn’t get anything from Bruce.”

“You need to get back to the manor. Bruce found Tim!”

That didn’t make any sense. “What? You mean Bruce found Tim’s remains?”

Jason smacked his arm. “His remains? Are you fucking serious? What remains could Bruce possibly find after a death like that?”

“I don’t know, bone fragments—”

Dick’s argument sounded flimsy the moment it left his mouth and they both knew it. Jason just really hated to be the one who had to say it.

“If the heat from that explosion didn’t finish him off entirely then the pounding impact of like a hundred thousand missiles definitely did in whatever remains might have been left.”

“Guys—” called Babs.

“Oh, so you’re a forensic scientist now? You don’t know that—“

“Yes, I do!” He slammed a hand down on the table, his anger flaring. He really couldn’t do this backslide back into denial with Dick again. “There’s a reason we buried an empty box. Tim is literally dust in the wind.”

“Jesus Christ!” Barbara’s voice erupted loudly through the speakerphone. “Kill it with the broody back and forth already and actually listen to me, would you? I’m not talking about bone fragments or anything like that. I’m saying Bruce found Tim. Tim! He’s alive.”

Jason met Dick’s eyes over the phone, confusion written as starkly across Dick’s face as it must have been on his own. “What? I— What?”

“I really don’t understand it all myself. But Tim said he’s been held captive by Mr. Oz in another dimension for this whole time. Can you believe it? All this time we thought he was dead and...”

Jason didn’t catch that last bit. He was too busy bent over the table as all the blood rushed to his head.

He was gonna hurl. “That doesn’t make any fucking sense.”

They’d all given up on the hope of Tim miraculously surviving a long time ago and this sudden news felt like he was experiencing emotional whiplash. This had to be some kind of sick joke or a trick... a doppelganger sent by the newest enemy on the rise against Batman.

Dick’s thoughts were apparently spiraling in the same direction as his own for he ran a hand roughly across his mouth and asked, “You saw him yourself? You’re sure it’s him, our Tim?”

But it wasn’t a big cosmic joke. As much as Jason couldn’t believe it, it wasn’t and that was made clear with every new piece of information Babs gave them.

“Yes, he was standing right in front of me only an hour ago — crying and hugging everyone.”

Dick turned to look at Jason, but he was already rounding the table and yanking Dick into a bruising hug.

“He’s alive,” Dick cried into the shoulder of his t-shirt. His voice overflowed with the most contagiously hysterical mixture of joy. Jason laughed through his own tears. “You bet your ass he is!”

He couldn’t explain what had come over him. He and Dick had never really been close — and they definitely weren’t huggers — but the last few months had been so full of this gnawing air of anxiety — their family continuing to fracture, the resources running dry — that the full realization was starting to hit them that this plan might have been formed too late to do any real good. They could feel the clock running out and they were both expecting the other shoe to drop any day now but then out of the blue… this.

Dick pushed away from him suddenly and wiped at his eyes.

“Uh…” he tried to clear his throat. “We, uh, we should get back to the cave and go see him for ourselves. Babs, he still there, right?”

“Yeah, Bruce is debriefing him.”

And just like that, Jason’s joy seized painfully in his chest. It hurt the way a seatbelt does in a car crash, knocking the air out of your lungs and bringing you up short. He watched Dick rush around him, grabbing up his belongings in a disorganized fashion.

“Dick, I can’t come with you.”

“What?” Dick asked, breathless. He turned back from the door. “Yes, you can. C’mon, get your stuff, the money can wait till tomorrow.”

Jason shook his head. Fuck, how the hell was he supposed to explain this to him without looking like the one asshole member of this family who didn’t want to visit his little brother recently brought back from the dead.

Dick paused, his hand dropping from the door handle. “What? Because of what happened between you and Bruce?”

I was a fool for ever believing in you. Even now Bruce’s words lingered at the back of his head. An invisible brand that still held its heat.

“Jason, I know what went down between you and Bruce was… heavy, to say the least, but you’re still family. You do know that, right? You’re still my family and if you want to see Tim, Bruce can do fuck-all to stop it. I’ll make sure of it.”

Jason could only huff a sad laugh at that because God did he want to believe that too, but he knew it wasn’t that simple. Tim would always be his family, but Bruce… he’d crossed a point of no return with Bruce on the night that the fortress was destroyed. The violence of his assault had done more than break a few bones— it had finally shattered that last shred of trust he’d stupidly harbored in him that when push came to shove Bruce would value the son over the soldier. I broke his rules for the last time and now he sees me as nothing more than an unredeemable criminal that escaped Batman’s justice. One of his little soldiers gone AWOL.

“Yeah, I know. It’s just… I can’t face him yet— I—” he trailed off. He’d been laying low since his return to Gotham, but even still Jason thought the only reason he’d survived this long was because Bruce was too consumed with Tim’s death to spend a spare thought on him. He wasn’t ready to walk into that cave tonight and find out what would happen now that Tim was back in the picture and Bruce’s anger focused back on him.

It felt like a horrible selfish thing to think about saving his own skin when his little brother had come back from the dead, but as his eyes lingered at the collection of items piled around the storage locker he was reminded that no one was going to do it for him. After all, that was how this plan had all started right? Someone had to be the one to craft the safety net for the next Robin to fall of Batman’s mighty pedestal.

“You should go. Tell Tim I’m glad he inherited my cockroach-like ability to not stay dead.”

“Jason…” Dick twisted the jacket he held in his hands.

“Go.” It came out sharper than he’d intended, despite his best efforts to push his emotions down. He was quick to try to smooth it over with a tight smile that he knew fooled neither of them. “I’ll stop by his apartment tomorrow once all the hype has died down. Besides, someone needs to finish up here.”

He nodded at the banknote counter.

The one thing he’d always valued about Dick, more than his caring nature, was that he knew when to stop pushing an issue.

“Alright,” Dick shifted his grip on his jacket again. His phone was chiming once more in the back pocket of his jeans. No doubt another family member asking where he was. “I’ll call you tomorrow to check in.”

“Sure.”

After the door to the storage locker fell shut, Jason let his gaze travel around the room again. So Tim was back, alive and well as far as any of them were concerned. A nagging part of Jason’s mind wondered worriedly if gaining him back would slowly undo all the plans they had made together. Would Dick continue to worry about the next crisis to befall their little family or would Tim’s return renew his neverending faith in the impossible until he eventually forgot what it was that drove him to his breaking point?

Jason picked up another stack of banknotes and slid it into the machine. As the numbers continued to rise once more he did his best to prepare himself for the idea that he would be alone in this mission once more. Another bitter pill to swallow but he couldn’t do it. It lodged itself raw and unpleasant at the back of his throat.

[aweecrush]

Prologue

Tuesday, October 16th 2007

“Jesus, I can’t believe you’re actually in the fucking plane - took you long enough! If I had known it took a wedding to get your arse back home, I would have had a couple by now, for God’s sake .”

“Michelle, you promised you wouldn’t start! ” Clare’s reproachful voice rose.

“Aye, first, I didn’t promise shit, and second, I told you, she’s not chickening out so chill out - right Erin?”

Despite the culpability and shame pricking at her skin, her heart warmed at their traditional bickering she wished she’d hear more often. At their voices. And, most of all, at knowing that in a few hours, she’d get to hear them for real.

Feck, she’d missed these eejits.

“Well, I’m not actually in the plane yet, we’re waiting to board. And then I still have that stupid long flight, and then the stupid long wait at stupid London, so don’t wait up - but yes, I’m definitely on my way,” she promised, earning herself an earful of high pitched cackles and happy swears.

Her heart welled up.

“So, how is the bride doing? She wasn’t home when I called earlier, and all Mammy could talk about was how the caterer was driving her crazy and how aunt Sarah almost set her own hair on fire trying a new hairdo she’d like to nail for the ceremony.”

Michelle snorted. “ Yeah, hilarious so it was. You should have seen your dad’s face, mental. ”

“It was terrifying,” Clare corrected, apparently still shaken.

Then, perked up. “Orla’s going to look so cute though - I can’t wait for you to see the dress!” Erin tried to ignore the sting of not having been there for such an important moment.

“We’re still trying to convince her out of drawing anything on it, but I’m not sure we’ll win this one, to be honest. Also, we’ve got everything almost ready to go for the bachelorette party, although I do need you to help me stop Michelle from bringing the tons of drugs she wants to, because - ”

“For feck’s sake Clare, Orla would love it! The girl is tying the knot, she deserves to get properly shit faced.”

“She said she wanted something small!”

“She said she would have liked to have a little something with just the five of us the night before. She never said anything about the actual bachelorette party being small - or fucking boring for that matter!”

“Just the five of us?”

The words spilled out before she could stop them, stupid that she was. At the other end of the line, the girls went uncharastically silent, and Erin cursed herself.

Feck.

“I mean, that’s grand. It’s cool, I thought it was just going to be one big night for the bachelorette party before the big day, but - I mean, that’s even better! Grand - cool.”

Christ on a bike, that was pathetic. She was.

“Yeah...The thing is, Orla wanted a wee night with just us Derry girls the night before the bachelorette party, hanging at the bar and stuff you know, because - Well, just because.” Poor Clare was rambling now, in a typical panicked Clare kind of way. “And we thought - Well, then we thought about it, and it turns out it’s not going to work, just timing-wise and stuff, so - “

“So the point is we dropped it.”

“Right. Yep.”

Again, silence, only betrayed by the hammering in her chest that she hoped her friends wouldn’t hear over her cellphone.

“Oh okay, well - that’s a shame.” Her casual slash over the top fake disappointment tone did nothing to help convince anyone, of course, herself included. She winced.

She promised herself it wasn’t going to be like this, though. She wasn’t going to ruin this for anyone - not a chance.

For God’s sake, catch yourself on Erin.

Pushing all dangerous thoughts aside, Erin took a deep breath. “In any case, I’m sure it’ll all be fine - really fine.”

There were another few seconds of silence, and she could just picture the worried look they were sharing - probably very similar to the one they had that particular, fateful day. To the one they had again when she told them she was moving away. Then -

“You bet it’ll be fine - feck, it will be absolutely brilliant is what it is! Wait til you see my dress, Erin - my tits look amazing in it.”

*

As it turned out, running all over the city for work for the past ten days and dangerously flirting with the limits of sleep deprivation did have a perk: her whole, eight hours flight, Erin slept like a log.

(Truth was, she could have done without the look of contempt and the ‘Miss? You have drool on your face’ from that stupid flight attendant who woke her up when they landed, but still - all in all, it went well.)

The wait at Stansted airport, however, was pure hell.

Because of the jitters, mostly.

Growing up, despite how much she loved to complain about them, Erin had never actually considered living away from her family. Well, not that far, at least - she’d always known she would leave Derry after high school, which they did, and it was glorious. War or not, she had a pretty nice life as a child and then a teenager, but those college years and the first ones that had followed - they were the best of her life.

Still, it was only Belfast at the time, and Belfast was a two hours drive from home. Erin knew that at some point, she wanted to go out in the world, maybe live abroad for a while, but this - New-York, all on her own, away for so long? She hadn’t planned that. Didn’t, really - it all went so fast, in the end.

It was a good thing too, because if she had stopped and thought about it for too long, she wasn’t sure she would have gone through with it.

(Then again, what else could she have done?)

Despite her dreams, and her need for independence, and her eagerness to see the world, Erin had never thought that she’d leave her family for that far, for that long. Orla had come to see her once, thank goodness, but Jesus -

On the last picture her Ma had sent her, Anna had grown so much, she almost looked like a wee woman. She’d forgotten the exact colour of that lipstick aunt Sarah wore all the time, she couldn’t remember each wrinkle on Granda’s beautiful face like she used to, and sometimes, she was afraid she was forgetting her Da’s smell and what her Ma’s voice sounded like in real life. She’d missed them so much, it hurt (a lot, often).

She just couldn’t wait any longer to get back to that crazy bunch, and those last, endless few hours? Torture so it was.

She was half considering starting to work on her next article to pass the time when across from her, Erin spotted a young couple bickering, their luggages next to their seats. She was a beautiful thing, red hair tied in a messy bun, and his brown curls fell above his forehead, all messed up.

She couldn’t hear what they were saying, but she could make out their accents. He looked like he was trying to make her smile, leaning over so he could kiss her, and she was doing everything she could not to laugh, weakly trying to escape his arms around hers, her pretense wavering with every second.

They were probably in their early twenties, just out of uni or something. They looked happy.

Her chest tightened, and suddenly, Erin felt the urge to cry.

Well, that was quick.

Shite. Shite shite shite.

It was okay, though - it was all fine. She knew herself by now - she was emotional as heck most days of the year (crazy, her Ma would say), but the day of her returning back home, with accumulated fatigue and an Atlantic crossing flight in her feet? Of course she'd get misty eyed at the first occasion. At anything, this just happened to be what, because they were very cute and - it was a coincidence, nothing more.

It was nothing.

The girl laughed, though, giving him a small slap over the head before she let him nuzzle his face in the crook of her neck. She brushed his forehead with her lips, a soft smile on them, and kept talking.

It was difficult, then, not to think about another time, another long wait, at the Bali airport this time. It was difficult, not to think about another English fella with wild, brown curls.

It was impossible, really, not to think about him.

Memories of a perfect trip came flooding back, of burnt skin and drunken smiles, of blue waters and green eyes. The tickles of the sun, the softness of his fingers over her exposed neck, her naked arms. Sweaty bodies pressed together during hot nights, slow breathes, so many new sights discovered, fingers intertwined.

Sometimes, the memory of his face hidden against her neck was so vivid, she could almost feel it. Just like she did now.

Her breath caught.

Sweet suffering Jesus.

Experience had taught her that she had to stop now - needed to, really, before her mind wandered to anything more. To everything else, every little thing that could, and would, make her heart ache even more than it already did.

(That’s another thing she’d found out: as it happened, the expression “heartbreak” wasn’t, in fact, an overly dramatic turn of words. Quite accurately descriptive it was, actually.

She often wondered when hers would stop feeling like it had been ripped into a million little pieces, but she was starting to lose faith that it ever would.)

Of course, she should have seen it coming, she knew that. She had, in fact. True to herself, she’d tried to ignore it, but she knew full well that with her coming back home, it would come back.

This painful, sneaky way every little thing seemed to remind her of before - of a life that felt so far away now.

Over the months, the many months since she’d been gone, she’d gotten it almost under control. Everyday life brought its distractions, particularly in a city like New-York: running between brunches and dinners, partying with her cool American friends, writing for a newspaper in the Big Apple, it was easy, forgetting what you wanted to, if only for so long. She was becoming a real life city girl, a full time one, and that was exactly what her busy brain - her treacherous heart - needed.

With time, every sight, every sound, every smell no longer reminded her of home - the place, the person. With time, she’d moved on.

Yes, sometimes - often - she’d wavered, but that was normal: having been close to someone meant that they lived with you forever, she couldn’t help that. At some point, it would just die down enough that she’d just be able to call it the past without her insides hurting.

(She thought it would, with Matt. Maybe not with the others before him, they were just passing through - but with him, she thought it would. She couldn’t really explain how it all made the permanent weight on her chest even heavier instead, somehow.)

But it hadn’t died down yet, and even though it was normal and okay and to be expected, six weeks ago, Erin had booked her tickets, and six weeks ago, she had lost the grip over the carefully built barriers she’d made sure to rise in the meantime for - well, self-preservation, really.

It started small. The song that had played this one special night, resonating through Starbucks as she waited for her drink. That sweatshirt her colleague bought one day that reminded her of another one. That scarf in the store that looked so much like Doctor Who’s.

But then...Then, it was every day, every damn day, just like the beginning - even worse, if she was being honest. Up until yesterday, when she boarded that damn plane.

Up until now, in this stupid airport where she didn’t want to cry.

Arms tightened around her own chest, Erin willed herself not to, even though it was becoming evident that there was no ignoring the memories and the aching now. Even though, just like she feared, it was becoming perfectly clear that there was no escaping anymore, no pretending that she wasn’t the worst person in this Goddamn country, that the worst hadn’t happened.

Even though she could feel the fear mixed with longing and excitement and dread and a million other emotions that had painfully, permanently taken residence in her stomach now that she was home.

(That had taken roots there ever since the day she left, so it did.)

Shite.

Sitting back up, Erin shook herself. No, no, no, no - she could do this.

She’d grown, she’d prepared herself. She’d even planned what to say if...She was ready. Responsable, mature, and ready. And she won’t have to face this alone.

In a few hours, she was going to see the people who raised her. In a couple of days, wee Orla was getting married. She’d come up with excuses after excuses not to come home, even for Christmas - babbling something about being overloaded with work even though it made her heart ache to know she’ll be alone for the holidays for the first time in her life. Even though she knew full well her Ma didn’t buy a single word, very aware of the real reason she was staying away. She didn’t say a single word, though, and Erin was grateful.

No more, though.

For months and months, Erin had found reasons to stay away for the exact reasons that were chipping away at her heart more and more by the second, but now her baby cousin was getting married, and she’d see her family, and they’ll hold her close, and she’ll find a way to bury all the stuff that was so, so much more difficult to ignore now that she was coming home.

Maybe - maybe it will be difficult, but they’ll be here to help her through it. She’ll be there for her family, and they’ll be here for her.

Fighting the urge to reach out for the folded photograph in her wallet (the one that brought so much comfort and so much else she’d rather avoid at the same time, the one she clinged to but pretended she didn’t), Erin just breathed, and moved to change seats.

Everything would be fine, in the end. It will be grand.

*

Except her family didn’t come.

No one did.

It was eight thirty in the morning, and, her cellphone penibly stuck between her ear and shoulder as she struggled to zip her jacket to protect herself from the freezing cold, Erin tried to swallow her disappointment.

“Aye I’m sorry love, it looks like you’re going to have to get a cab,” her Ma announced before yelling something at her Granda in the distance.

Erin couldn’t help but notice the fact that she didn’t seem that sorry, not at all in fact. “Your Da was going to come get you, but there’s a problem of some kind where the reception is, and he had to take Orla.”

Erin nodded, even though her Ma couldn’t see her. “Yeah, sure. I’ll just - ”

“We’ll give you the money back for the cab when you arrive. Alright, I gotta go love, we’re checking the hair accessories for the big day - see you in a bit.” And with that, she hung up.

Well.

Here went her big welcome home, eh.

Again, it was nothing, though, she reasoned. She was a grown up now, of course she understood that something had come up, and that this all delayed their big reunion from only an hour, tops. So really, there was no reason to get upset.

None.

She wished she wasn’t getting upset.

From what she told her, Clare would be putting together gift bags now, and there was absolutely no doubt that Michelle was still snoring. Pocketing her cell as best as she could, Erin bit the inside of her cheek and started looking for the only plan B she had left, ignoring the burning in her eyes. It really was nothing - she’ll be fine.

It didn’t matter that she took forever to get a cab, for some reason, or that her luggage fell over her foot when they tried to put it in the truck, or that her handbag crashed on the floor and spilled everywhere.

Erin did know she tended to be over dramatic - and yes, maybe borderline crazy, Ma wasn't completely wrong - but she was more mature now, so instead of getting riled up, instead of being crushed by the fact that her family didn’t seem to have missed her as much as she did them, and that the land she grew up on was sending her sign after sign that she wasn’t welcomed back, Erin breathed.

Instead of being violently overwhelmed by memories at every corner of the place she’d grown up in, the place where they met and it all began, she did - she tried to breathe, slowly, carefully, squeezing her scarf in her hand a little too tight.

(That was another thing about your close ones not coming to get you at the airport after you left your country to run away: there wasn’t much to distract you from the memories you were running away from.)

She wouldn’t cry. She was just tired, and being stupid, and she wasn’t coming home with puffy red eyes - no way.

They passed the mall they all used to hang out at, and her throat tightened so much, it felt like the air had left the inside of the car. She saw the movie theater he was always so eager to bring her to in the distance, and a familiar pang of missing shot through her chest. Her heart twisted that particular way when they drove by the hiding spot of their early days, but even though she wondered how she was still holding her tears, she did.

After what felt like an eternity, the car finally pulled up her street, and Erin hadn’t shed one silly tear. She’d done it. She could do it.

By the time she pushed their small barrier and started for the couple of stairs, all Erin wanted was to collapse into bed and black out. Orla and Da wouldn’t be home, Ana would probably still be asleep, and given the day and time, Grandda would have gone for his walk. She’d give a big hug to Ma and Aunt Sarah, pretext a headache, and go lie down.

As she struggled to get her bags through the door while keeping the damn thing open, Erin shouted, cursing herself at how strangled her voice sounded. “I’m home!”

Finally managing to get everything and herself inside, she collapsed on the wall behind her, only now taking in the wallpaper, the coat hangers, the shoes by the entry.

Damn - she was home.

The emotion was so striking, she didn’t quite have the time to stop the tears from welling up in her yes, taken by surprise.

She moved before it all became too much and shrugged off her coat, feeling her insides warm at the familiar surroundings, and yet her heart ache at not having the usual voices that went with it, the faces that she wanted so much to see. She shouted again, but there was still no response.

Ma and aunt Sarah must have had something to do, then. It was fine, she thought as she pushed the living door open. It was, she’d just grab a glass of water and -

“SURPRISE!”

And just like that, Saturday Night started playing from somewhere, overcoming the shouting and the party whistles that had broken the silence so suddenly, Erin had jumped out, her back hitting doorframe behind her. There was colours and and noise and arms waving in every direction, and Erin vaguely realized that she was covered in confetti that matched the balloons and the hats.

Somehow, she noticed that they all had one: Michelle, up on the sofa, Clare, jumping in place at the other side of the room, Orla and the giant teddy bear she was holding. Anna, her pink one stuck on top of her mass of blond hair. Aunt Sarah and Grandda, both holding hands and arboring the same green one. Her Ma, her Da, tears in their eyes, huge grins on their faces, red and yellow ones falling over.

Her brain had stopped functionning, so she couldn't be sure, but Erin thought that her legs were giving out.

Before they did, though, both her parents closed the distance and hugged her close, whispering things she couldn't quite make sense of just yet. Their voices in her ear, their smell surrounding her, Erin broke her promise to herself, and finally let the tears come flooding as she held them back as close as she could.

She was home.

[mae-gi-writes]

Awkwardly In Love | Mingi (ATEEZ)

Volleyball player! Mingi can’t seem to take his eyes off the girl on the bleachers whose got her nose stuck in her book.

Genre: FLUFF AND CUTE AWKWARD MINGI SBGKJDGJ I CAN’T HE RUINS ME. 

Word count: you just gotta know that it iz quite a long ride. I apologize for that.

----

She's always got her nose buried in her book.

That's what catches Mingi's attention at first.

See, he's not one to read. Nor does he have any interest in reading and books and the things that come with it. Growing up in a household full of children involved in physical sport, books had counted for nothing but a minimal afterthought. That, and the fact that their financial struggles made it so that they didn't spend on books if it could be helped.

So seeing her always carrying around piles and piles of books has Mingi wonder how much extra cash does she have to spend on all this imaginary stories.

When he realizes that the reason she's always on the same spot on the bleachers is due to her cousin being in the same volleyball team as he is, he can't help but start asking questions.

"Yeah she's my mother's sister's daughter," Hongjoong says with a small affectionate smile, "we basically grew up in the same household so she waits for me after classes."

"You guys close then?" Mingi asks in a forced nonchalant tone. He keeps his eyes on the ball being served on the other side, palms already closed and upturned at the ready.

"Ready?" His teammate calls.

"Yeah!" They both holler.

He serves. The ball swoops in a beautiful arc and Mingi steels himself before receiving the ball with trained precision.

Pack!

"Closer than siblings," Hongjoong answers as the ball flies over the net, "why do you ask?"

Mingi is about to answer when he spots the ball. Hongjoong sweeps in, steering his legs to tap the ball high in the air.

Tap!

Mingi's head swivels up, catches the ball to throw it back at Hongjoong.

Pack!

"In!" The referree calls to signal that they've marked the final point to the game. The pair allow sighs to leave their lips as they slowly make their way out of the court.

"Uhm," Mingi's chest heaves up and down with effort. Sweat dots his forehead as he racks for an excuse, "just curious I guess."

"Want me to introduce you?"

"Uh-- I--That's not--necessary--"

It's too late though, for Hongjoong is already calling out her name, "Y/N!"

Her head lifts from where it's been buried in her book.

Her cousin motions for her to come forward and no sooner is she stepping down from the bleachers that Mingi's neck flushes bright red, and he knows deep down it's not from the fact that he's just exercised.

"Y/N, meet Mingi my teammate," Hongjoong's grin is definitely one that is suggestive, which does nothing for Mingi's confidence.

"Hi," she sends him a warm smile, extending a hand. Mingi shakes it and can't help but notice how tiny her fingers are in comparison.

Delicate fingers, so breakable. Cute.

"H-Hi, I'm Mingi," Oh god, he hopes he doesn't sound like an idiot.

"Mingi's always been on the team. He's the ace after all," adds Hongjoong.

"Ah, that's cool," Y/N nods.

That's how it starts really. At every practice, Mingi makes it a must to talk to her, even if it's juet a tiny greeting, or a slight wave of his shy hand whenever he's already on the court when she stumbles in with her pile of books tucked under her arm. There's just something about her, something that pulls him in like an invisible string even though he can barely make his way through one sentence when he's gazing straight into her eyes.

Once, he musters up the courage to ask her about the book in her lap and the amount of joy flushing up her cheeks makes it so palpable that he feels giddy from her own excitement.

"I'm currently reading Peony in Love," holding up the book so he can see, she continues, "it's a historical novel about this Chinese girl that falls in love with someone who isn't her betrothed, then dies only to realize that this someone is actually her betrothed."

"That's actually really heartbreaking."

"Yeah well, so are most romance stories," she shrugs, "like the titanic."

"I've never actually watched it."

"What?! You're kidding me?"

He shakes his head, ducking his head in embarrassment as he wonders whether she thinks of him as a loser because of his apparent lack of intellectual knowledge.

But instead, he is faced with her enthusiasm, "we should watch it someday! It's like a classic, you'll love it if you like dramatic endings."

"You--" he feels his chest tighten in excitement, "you're serious?"

"Of course I am! I'll let Hongjoong know."

His heart does drop a little at Y/N's cousin's name. He'd hoped that they'd be alone, just the two of them.

Nevertheless, he makes his way over to Hongjoong's flat on the said night and is surprised to find not just the pair of cousins But an entire group of familiar individuals that he's seen hanging around the corridors and classrooms.

"Hey you came!" Hongjoong claps Mingi's back as he steps into the doorway, "I invited some of my close friends too. You probably know them."

As Mingi greets the rest of the group whe exchanging soft pleasantries, he finally catches sight of Y/N's figure darting between tall frames before she emerges, grinning, "hi, Mingi right?"

He can't help but blush right down to his toes, "h-hey, what's up?"

"Sorry for all the noise. The guys just wanted to crash here. Told them we were watching titanic and they promised they wouldn't make running commentaries."

"It's alright. I know them all a little. We're in the same class."

"Ah cool. You guys all in the same major then?"

Mingi scratches the back of his head, "nah I'm in Psych. But since they're all in the sciences like Hongjoong we do have same classes."

"Cool. I wish I could've taken Psych," she puffs up her cheeks into a pout and Mingi's fingers itch to pinch her cheeks.

She can't be that cute. She just can't be.

"So are we starting the movie or what?!" One of the guys --his name is Yunho, Mingi guesses -- calls out.

"The way you're talking Yunho, it's almost like you're the one who really wants to watch it," Hongjoong replies sassily while throwing both arms around Y/N and Mingi respectively before guiding them to the tv room. He dips his head towards Mingi's ear as the group settles in, "don't worry bro, I'll make sure you sit next to her."

Blushing furiously at the older boy's comment, the latter doesn't even have time to defend himself when he is being pushed onto the couch right next to Y/N's figure.

"You a big tears kind of guy?" The girl murmured, popcorn in lap. She extends it out to Mingi, who shyly grabs a handful.

"I guess it depends," Mingi murmurs, "are there animals in there?"

"Oh so you're that kind of guy."

He flushes. What kind of guy is she referring to?

The movie starts with the narration of an old lady gazing at a sapphire necklace, bedore the screen gives way to a shot of the ship itself in all its splendour, glistening a bold black and white in the midday sun.

Mingi knows he should be concentrating on the movie. And it's true, he really should, especially when Y/N had asked him to because it is clearly a classic he can't possibly miss out on. But alas, his eyes keep dashing back and forth between the screen and Y/N's face, stealing looks whenever she is not looking. It's almost like a magnetic pull tugging his gaze back to her no matter how hard he forces his eyes away; flitting over her eyes focused in attention, eyebrows furrowed at the middle with her mouth hanging open like a child amazed with naked wonder.

What can she possibly be thinking? What is going on inside that imaginative mind of hers?

What magical dimension is she traveling to without his knowledge?

It's only when the romance between the two protagonists start blossoming that he finally tears his eyes away to focus on the movie itself, all the while sensing Y/N's heat permeating from her body to his in a way that causes a permanent flush in the back of his neck.

The movie ends all too soon, with tears in Y/N's eyes and some of the other guys as they debate over the ending and how stupid Rose was for not giving Jack some space on the wooden board.

"Well to be fair, he would've probably sunk the entire board," Seonghwa argues. He's the pretty boy that everyone knows of, the one whom every girl has been crushing on since his admittance to their college.

"If I were Rose, I wouldn't want to keep living without the love of my life," Y/N points out, "I would've drowned myself with him."

"Jesus Y/N, that's terrifying," Hongjoong says.

"It's true though!"

The look in her eyes whenever she spoke of movies was a look of naked excitement. Like now, Mingi spots the familiar fire burning through her gaze, a gaze he finds alluring on her. It's like it breathes life into her face. It's similar to the one she wears whenever she's reading.

A few days later on campus, he bumps into her hurrying out of the library as he walks in, almost sending her flying before his arm snatches out to hold her shoulder.

"Sorry," he says hastily while putting her back on her feet and releasing her like she's just burnt him.

"S'okay," Y/N sends him a reassuring smile, "where you going?"

"Assignments. I'm late on my research paper because of practice," Mingi scratches his head. He nods towards her books, "what caught your interest this week?"

"Oh I'm just re-reading A Darker Shade of Magic," she grins like a little child being caught. Something in Mingi's heart softens like butter.

"What's it about?"

"It's so cool, it's like this guy with a super cool coat that has hundreds over coats inside it. And he's a magician and there are parallel worlds that have different wavelengths of magic. So he can travel through the different worlds and--" she stops abruptly then before her cheeks colour in shades of pink, "sorry. I'm rambling again--"

"No no no," Mingi cuts her off, causing her to blink, wide-eyed, "please...continue. I--I like it when you talk about your books. You--You always seem so alive and excited."

"Oh," her face flushes even more as another troop of butterflies tickle Mingi's stomach. She's so damn cute! "Thanks...Mingi."

He tries to analyze the flickering expressions on her face, though he guesses it is close to feeling embarrassed.

"A--Anyway I--I'll get going," Mingi hurriedly says, moving past her with flaming red ears upon realizing what he has just said, only to feel her hand clamp down on his.

He turns to see her, averted gaze and all, little fingers clamped onto his shirt, "do you--do you want to...go see a movie sometime?"

----------

Hongjoong had threatened Mingi with a multitude of ways of killing him in case he broke Y/N's heart, albeit the fact that the taller man stated that no, they weren't going on a date,.and anyway flirting had never been Mingi's strongest points anyway.

"Sure. If it's not a date, what is it then?" Hongjoong had asked with a roll of his eyes.

"It's just two people hanging out," Mingi had protested through red ears and scarlet tinged cheeks.

As per the said man's suggestion, the pair decides to meet up at the cinema entrance to choose the movie of their choice. Y/N is decked in a simple white t-shirt, loose cut-off jeans with red sneakers, and as Mingi silently admires her sense of simple fashion the heat that rises through the back of his neck is enough to make him avert his gaze bashfully.

They settle on a romantic comedy and he volunteers to buy the popcorn so that she can find some decent seats. As he settles into the cinema room and the lights dim into darkness, he places the popcorn box into her hands, waving her off upon her rising protests.

"But you--"

"I'll share it with you, don't-- don't worry," he replies, hand scratching the back of his neck.

Don't sweat it, he says to himself. It's fine. It's not a date. It's just two friends enjoying each other's presence.

Halfway through the movie, Mingi reaches for the popcorn only for their hands to collide. He retracts it like he just burnt himself, causing the said girl to chuckle softly. She reaches over then, with a handful of popcorn, before plopping it straight into his mouth without warning.

Mingi blinks. Heat goes straight to his ears.

When his eyes find hers, she only graces him with a timid smile, before returning back to the movie, totally unaware that his heart is now practically galloping out of his chest.

Jesus, what she does to his heart.

Mingi has never been so whipped in his life, but right now, he's pretty certain that he doesn't mind if that means she can accept his heart.

"Well that was fun," Y/N says the moment they step out of the cinema hall, "wasn't expecting it to be so lovey dovey though."

His head ducks, "I'm sorry," he mutters, "I didn't know you weren't into--"

"Oh no no! Not at all! We both chose it. You have nothing to feel bad about!"

"I'm not that into movies," comes his mumble.

"What?" Y/N stops in the middle of the road as she blinks up at him in shock, "you should've told me!"

"I wasn't interested in seeing the movie, I just wanted to see--" he hesitates slightly, "you."

What the fuck Mingi, he feels like choking himself foe his stupidity. Why was he acting like a total turd? This was ridiculous! She's just a girl, a cute one sure, but still! It's almost like he's lost all ability to make conversation.

He tries once more, "I'm--I'm sorry I shouldn't have--“

“No, I“m the one who's sorry. Here, let me treat you. Ice cream?” and then, her eyes widen, "you do like ice cream right?"

That'a enough for his lips to tilt up into a smile, "I'd love ice cream."

---

Once they settle on a bench at the nearby park, it seems like all nervousness suddenly ease from Mingi's consciousness and slowly, he starts opening up to the said girl as they lick at their ice cream cones. The sun sets over the horizon, turning the blue sky in scarlet hues that reminds him of summer days that last forever.

"Architecture's tough but honestly, that was the only thing my parents would let me study," Y/N says, empty ice-cream stick in hand as her gaze sweeps over the park and its passerbys.

"I guess it makes sense, considering our economy recently," Mingi agrees.

"And you? Why Psych?"

He lifts his shoulder in a half-hearted shrug, "I guess I just like analyzing people. It's intriguing, knowing how people think, how they act around others."

"You want to be a therapist?"

"I don't know if I'm strong enough to help people get out of their problems when I can't even help myself."

He feels her eyes on him and finds interest in the way the wind blows across the grass blades.

Her voice is soft when she says, "you don't have to be that kind of hero, if you don't want to."

His heart swells with warmth and sudden affection, though he says nothing but nods in agreement.

It's easily past ten when they trudge back to Y/N's house, with nervousness swimming through Mingi's stomach in apprehension to Hongjoong's earlier threats, though Y/N reassures him that Hongjoong is mostly all talk and no action. That reassures the tall man slightly, until his feet start bristling upon spotting her front porch.

"Thanks for keeping me company today," Y/N tilts her head up, her profile bathed in the backlight of her house, "next time, let's not go to the movies."

Mingi's heart skips, "I didn't mind it."

"I know, but I want to do things that you like too," she grins.

A surge of courage rises through his chest as he tells her that he'd like that a lot too.

Except the thing that falls out of his mouth instead is, "I like you too."

She blinks.

He blinks back, realization settling in like a dull ache in his stomach.

Horror sweeps through him. Oh no.

It hadn't been in his plan to expose himself like this, exposing himself like a dog who wants a tummy rub, but then again there's no sign of rejection that flickers across Y/N's face, which he takes as a good sign as he fumbles for the right words, "uhm, I-- I mean, I didn't mean--"

"You didn't mean that?"

"What?" His eyes widen, "no no! Of course I mean it, I just--"

He gasps at his own words, cupping a hand over his mouth as the girl before him explodes into an uncontrollable fit of laughter.

"Oh my gosh," her eyes crinkle up into those adorable crescents of hers, "you're so cute."

Scarlet pink blossoms across his cheeks. Averting his eyes, he wishes that the floor can just come and swallow him up right there and then.

"Right," clearing his throat, one hand reaches up to scratch his ear, "well, I-I'll just go--"

He's halfway turning around when Y/N's hand trickles through his, as gentle as water flowing through his fingertips.

"Wait," she murmurs.

His breath stalls. Inhaling a soft breath, he slowly shuffles back, not daring to meet her gaze when he feels like he's just put his heart on the table for her to do with as she pleases.

Her voice is a gentle breath of a whisper, "don't go."

And then, she's up on her tippy toes and pressing a light kiss to his cheek. Mingi's skin practically lights on fire as another round of butterflies erupt in his chest at her touch, and he can't help but stare down at her, jaw slack, as she gives him the shyest smile he's ever seen.

Cute! His mind screams. Cute cute cute!

"So," Mingi's mind comes back into focus upon hearing her voice, eyes finding her biting down onto her lower lip, “Well, uh--I guess--I guess this means I--I like you, or something.”

"uhm,” his ears are so hot with heat he feels they might fall off as he forces himself not to gawk at her, though it’s proving to be quite difficult as he’s trying to muster the courage to come out with a reasonable answer. 

“I--well, uh--how does this--I don't know--do you want to...uh possibly,” he swallows thickly, before exhaling the words in a rush,”...goouttodinnerwithme?"

Y/N blinks in confusion, "I'm sorry?"

Come on, Mingi! He thinks to himself in growing desperation. Don't be such a wimp!

"Do you... want to...go out with me? S--Sometime?" His throat is clogged with so much embarrassment he fear he might choke.

But when he feels soft fingers trace his chin, he looks up, right into her dark brown eyes sparkling with a tinge of playfulness, excitement and naked joy brimming at the corners.

"I'd love that," she whispers.

And she lifts herself up once more to land a kiss on his mouth, softly, shyly, a mere brushing her mouth against his.

Mingi stumbles upon impact, hands unconsciously grasping her waist as his back comes in contact with the railing lining her porch.

His eyes are wide when she pulls away, biting her lower lip like she can't help but feel nervous from this bold action that has taken him by surprise.

"What--" Mingi chokes on his words, lapses into silence while staring down at her.

The girl merely glances down. A blush taints her cheeks and even though his fingers are shaking and he feels like his heart is about to jump out of his chest at the mere prospect of their closeness, his body moves before his brain does.

Closing the gap between them, it's his turn to press a kiss now, a chaste one that tells her that he reciprocates these feelings wholeheartedly. And Y/N responds by wrapping her arms around his neck to pull him closer so that their chests touch, mouths moving slowly in harmony as they chase each other and mold together in a way that leaves Mingi breathless and his heart stuttering like he's just won a race.

If it is, then it's the most importance race of his life.

It is only when they pull apart, breathing into each other with barely millimetres separating their mouths, that he can't help but laugh at the realization that this girl in his arms is his.

"What?" She says while smiling up at him. So gorgeous, so breathtaking. And she's his.

"Nothing," he can sense the heat flooding his cheeks once more, "I just-- I'm just...happy."

And there it is, that same smile that he loves so much. The smile that holds magical words and countless secrets to the amazing mind she beholds. He can't want to delve into her thoughts and pick at her brain, knowing that all of them are going to be precious memories he'll hold dear to his heart.

That smile.

Hongjoong's voice suddenly erupts out of nowhere like a nightmare, "don't think I didn't see you guys kissing out there!"

---

I’m so whipped for Mingi and he’s like 2 years younger so I feel like such an old noona *sighs*. 

Anyway, let me know if you’d like more Ateez content! <3 Stay safe guys, and thanks for reading! 

[babyangellee]

“Please Find Me”

Summary- The reader gets kidnapped and her captor exposes her relationship with Spencer to the team. They race to find her before it’s too late.

Warnings- Blood, stabbing, injury, possible swearing?, the usual criminal minds drama

Word Count- 2.3k 

[Part 2] [Part 3]

You danced around your kitchen while wiping down the counter. You were so into the music that you didn't hear your front door open and close. You didn't hear the slight squish of his boots on the hardwood as he slowly approached you. When you finally turned around you let out a small scream and dropped the cloth you were using.

"Jesus Danny! You scared me!" You yelled whacking your cousin's chest as you started to laugh.

"Sorry Y/N didn't mean to startle you" He replied slowly bending down to grab the cloth and then handing it to you.

"So how long are you in town for? I have to get into work soon but I'd love to get dinner or something when I get bac-'' You were cut off by something hard hitting the back of your head causing you to fall to the floor.

***

"Alright let's get started!" Garcia said enthusiastically while clapping her hand together.

"Wait, where's Y/L/N?" Hotch asked and everyone looked at each other realizing you weren't there.

"Maybe she's sick or slept in?" Spencer piped up, slightly confused himself. You guys had been dating for a while but only JJ knew about it. "I can give her a call to see what's up?"

"Let's brief first and then call her, tell her to meet at the police station," Hotch said and nodded to Garcia to continue.

"No need to take your Dramamine! This case is right in DC. Alright so in the last month four bodies have turned up. Allison Mark, Taylor McLaughlin, Jaime Hunt, and Kayla Johnson. All women in their late 20's were abducted from their homes, held for a week, and then killed." Garcia explained while going through the case on the screen behind her.

"This unsub definitely has a type, all the victims look like they could be sisters." She pointed out. She couldn't help but have a weird feeling about how eerily similar they looked to you. The same y/h/c and y/e/c, the same sparkle in their eye, and the same bright smile. She tried to shake the thought from her head as the rest of the team continued to go over the details.

"Alright. Prentiss and Rossi I want you to head to the ME, JJ, and Morgan I want you to go and pick up Y/L/N and then head to the dumpsite. Reid and I will head to the station." Hotch said picking up his case file and walking out of the conference room. Everyone nodded and split up heading to their SUV with their assigned partners.

Morgan and JJ had pulled up to your apartment and saw your car parked outside. They headed into the building and walked up the stairs to your apartment. You lived on the fourth floor but taking the stairs was faster than the elevator. When they approached your door Morgan knocked fairly loudly so that if you were sleeping hopefully it would wake you. After about 30 seconds and still no response JJ pulled out her phone dialing your number as Morgan knocked again.

Still, no response so JJ pulled out the emergency key you had given her about a year ago. Penelope and her were your closest friends on the team so along with Spencer, they both had a key in case of emergency. JJ deemed this an emergency.

She went to put the key in the lock but realized it was already unlocked. That was weird. You never left your door unlocked. The only people that ever needed to get in had keys. She gave Derek a concerned look as she pulled her gun from its holster. Morgan quickly followed her action as they opened your door.

"Y/N!" JJ called out walking into your bedroom as Derek made his way into your living room and then into the kitchen.

"JJ in here!" Derek yelled. JJ ran in seeing broken glass on the floor and your cell on the kitchen counter. As Morgan pulled out his phone to inform Hotch, JJ looked around more closely noticing a few drops of blood near the broken glass. You didn't leave without a struggle.

"Hotch, she's not here...... no, her car is but she isn't...... there looks like there was a struggle...... yea we're on the way." Morgan looked at JJ as he hung up the phone. "Another body just turned up. We just found this guy's pattern. And his latest victim."

JJ swallowed a lump in her throat that she didn't know was there. She nodded her head as she followed Morgan back to the car.

****

You woke up in a cold sweat not knowing where you were or how you got there. You quickly realized you were gagged and bound to a chair. You frantically tried to wriggle your hand free but they wouldn't budge. You looked around but there wasn't much to see. You were in a big open space. The floor and walls were concrete, you assumed you were in an abandoned building of some kind, maybe a warehouse.

Your head was pounding and you could feel the dried blood on the side of your face. You closed your eyes and tried to take a deep breath and remain as calm as possible, given the situation you were in. Just when you got your breathing in control you heard his voice and it sent chills down your spine.

"Good, you are finally awake! I was getting bored." He laughed. You looked at him absolutely terrified. How could he be doing this to you? You were his family. He just gave you a wicked smile before pulling out a camera. He placed it on a tripod and turned it on. You stared at the blinking red light drowning out what he was saying.

You only reacted when he took a knife dragging it across your cheek making you cry out in pain. He just laughed moving the knife to your arm before pushing down causing the cut to go deeper and you let out a muffled sob.

" I think that's enough of a message don't you?" He smiled again before taking the SIM card out of the camera and placing it in an envelope. He then handed you a sharpie and placed the paper under your hand. Forcing you to write the words FBI BAU TEAM on it so they couldn't analyze his handwriting.

Once you were done he took the envelope and the sharpie before leaving you alone again. He drove the hour-long distance to Quantico and walked up the building with a dark hoodie on. He knew it was kind of risky but if he got questioned he could definitely talk his way out of it. Once inside he handed the envelope to a security guard.

"I don't know man! I was across the street enjoying a nice iced coffee and when I went to get in my car I saw this on my windshield." He explained. The guard just nodded before making his way up to the sixth floor and handing it to one of the team members.

****

Your head slowly lolled to the side as your eyes fluttered closed. You were tired and in pain. You just wanted this to be over with. Just as you let slumber claim your body you were instantly awoken to the feeling of cold water being sprayed at you. You whimpered as the freezing water completely soaked your body making your teeth slightly chatter against the gag. The water turned off just as fast as it had been turned on and you saw Danny laughing holding a hose. He dropped it before making his way over to you. He slowly stroked your face and then retracted his hand.

"I think your friends might want to see this." He said walking away before reappearing with the camera, this time it was hooked up to a laptop and you knew he was going to live stream it. He set up the tripod and then turned around typing a few things into the computer and then stalking back over to you. Once he could tell the team was watching he started speaking.

" Ya know, I didn't really know how to feel when your mom told me you had a boyfriend." He started playing with a small knife in his hands. "She wouldn't shut up about him! She told me how you met up for lunch and told her you thought he was the one. Now when she said that, it struck a nerve. I've known you your whole life and never once were you ever serious about any guy but then all of a sudden you've had a boyfriend for four and a half years and are planning a future with him." He was starting to get angrier as he spoke and you knew Spencer and the team were hearing this.

"So it got me thinking. You always liked to brag and everything needed to be perfect with you. And after I looked him up it finally clicked. Supervisory Special Agent Spencer Reid. Or is it Doctor Spencer Reid. Who has three PhDs and two BAs? A child prodigy who went to high school at the age of twelve. You must have eaten that up." He laughed. He was trying to get under your skin and it was working. "He's just a fancy label to you. You don't love him for his personality, you love the attention you get from HIM being your boyfriend!"

"So tell me. How'd you do it? Huh? You were never interested in someone for longer than two months, how's you manage to fake four years?" He gave you a quizzical look before you saw a light bulb go off in his head. "Actually! Don't just tell me. Tell him." He pointed to the camera before stalking over to you and untying your gag.

"Don't listen to him, Spencer! I love you! Please find me!" You cried before you were silenced by the gag again. You had made him angry.

"You liar! You're lying to him! You bitch!" With that he took the knife in his hands, pushing it into your thigh. He twisted it and then pulled it out. You screamed in pain against the thick cloth material in your mouth. You looked down at the red liquid quickly oozing out of your leg as you continued to cry.

"Don't you get it! I loved you! I'm in love with you! What does he have that I don't!" He screamed as you started seeing spots. The pain radiating through your body. You started to struggle to keep your eyes open, your head dropping. As they started to flutter closed Danny aggressively grabbed your cheeks causing you to stare at him.

"I'm not done!" He yelled slapping you harshly before letting go of your face, your head immediately dropping again. He growled in irritation before walking back over to the hose spraying with the freezing cold water cause you to be on high alert.

"Now let's tell that boyfriend of yours the truth." He said coming up behind you and untying the gag again. This time held a knife against your shoulder. "Now tell him! Tell him you don't love him!"

You shook your head staying quiet. He pushed the knife into your shoulder with just enough pressure to break the skin, and you let out a soft whimper.

"SAY IT!" He yelled again causing you to flinch. You still stayed silent and he pushed the knife in all the way. You yelped at the pain finally giving in.

"I-I-I don't love you. I-I'm s-sorry" You cried out looking straight into the camera. Your heartfelt like breaking for saying those words. Danny, satisfied, pulled the knife out of your shoulder and walked around to the front of you. He bent down so he was face to face with you.

"I really hope he's still watching," He said quietly as he leaned in and kissed you. Danny slowly pulled away with rage in his eyes after about 20 seconds. "You didn't kiss back! Why did-" He was cut off but rustling outside of the warehouse. He stopped speaking and placed a hand over your already gagged mouth. When the rustling got closer he panicked and jabbed the knife into your stomach making you sharply inhale.

"FBI! DANIEL ANDERSON DON'T MOVE!" You sighed a breath of relief as you heard your friend and co-worker Derek Morgan's voice boom out. Danny went to plunge the knife into your body again before you heard a shot fired, the man in front of you falling to the floor. Knowing he was dead and you would be safe made your entire body relax.

"Hey, sweetheart" Morgan quickly walked over to you. Derek yelled into his radio for a medic once he saw your injuries. You started seeing spots again and felt weaker than ever before. You felt his hand reach up and gently grabbed your face so he could look at you. Your skin was paler than ever before and your lips had a bluish tint.

"JJ! Hurry!" He yelled behind you and you heard heels clicking over to you. Your eyes started to flutter closed again as you didn't have the strength to keep them open any longer. "Hey, hey, hey come on pretty girl keep those eyes open for me," Derek said hurriedly as JJ was untying the restraints that keep you in the chair. You tried your best but you just couldn't stay awake. The last thing you heard was Derek yelling into his radio again for the medics to hurry up.